Blood Play
by kissyfur
Summary: There Will Be Blood contest Readers' Choice 1st Place Winner: Waking up naked in a strange bed is bad. Waking up naked and tied up in a strange bed is worse. Even worse than that? Waking up naked and tied up in the bed of a Vampire that wants to eat you.
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this as a one-shot for the "There Will Be Blood" contest, and due to popular demand decided to expand it into a short story (probably 3 or 4 chapters). Please be warned, it is a bit dark and twisted-with an Edward who is very OOC-and is not for the squeamish (the title and summary should be fair warning). Also, it is definitely meant for a mature audience; if you aren't old enough to buy porn, then you are NOT old enough to read this.

If you originally read this during the contest, please note that the end of chapter 1 is a little different now. Their 8000 word limit was seriously kicking my ass, and I had to eliminate a bit from the end to make it fit. Now that I don't have to worry about length, I am posting the original unedited version. Not saying that this is better than the contest-entry version, just that this is the way it was supposed to go in my own mind.

There are a few lines taken directly from _Twilight_, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.

**WARNING: DARK SEXUAL THEMES, VIOLENCE, GORE**

* * *

The first thing I noticed was the pillowy softness—it felt like I was floating on a cloud.

The second thing I noticed was the silky smoothness caressing every inch of my skin.

The third thing I noticed was that I couldn't move.

The last realization had me blinking in confusion, which is when I noticed that there was something over my eyes. Focusing on my head, I realized that was one part of my body that I _could_ move. As I turned my head from one side to the other, I could feel something bulky pressing into the back of it; there was something tied around my eyes. I was blindfolded.

That was when the first tendrils of panic began to flutter around in my stomach.

As my breathing quickened, I tried to force myself to stay calm by focusing on the relaxing technique Charlie had taught me years ago to help me sleep.

Starting at my toes, I tried to relax my body muscle-by-muscle, focusing on one body part at a time. Curl the toes. Relax. Clench the feet. Relax. Flex the ankles, feeling the restraints tighten around them.

What the fuck?

The panic I had been trying to keep back erupted full-force then, leaving me squirming and panting as my body's fight or flight response kicked in. Neither was possible of course, but logic means nothing in the face of pure adrenaline and I continued to struggle even as the rational part of my brain insisted that it was useless.

Even though panic had a firm grip on my body, that small rational part of my mind was busy observing and cataloguing all the small details it could, trying to find something that might help me to understand what was happening to me.

I was naked and laying on my back on what was probably the world's softest, most comfortable bed. There was some kind of cover over the top of me, likely a sheet judging by the nearly nonexistent weight of it. My arms were stretched over my head, wrists tied together with some kind of strap extending up out of reach of my fingertips; presumably tied off to the headboard. My legs were spread, with ties around the ankles holding them wide apart. Whatever material had been used to tie and blindfold me was soft and smooth against my skin, but quite strong and without even the slightest bit of give. The restraints were snug around my wrists and ankles, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable or to interfere with my circulation.

I had been stripped naked, tied down and immobilized, but some care seemed to have gone into making sure I was not hurt or uncomfortable. The dichotomy gave me something to focus on, and I was able to quiet myself enough to consider what this might mean.

Obviously, being naked and tied up was not good. Mucho Grande not good. Best not to dwell on just how very NOT GOOD that part was, and try to focus on something that might help.

(_But you're naked.)_

I had been covered up, and I wasn't sure how that meshed with the naked part. Moving on.

The fact that my ties were snug without being tight, that my legs were spread but not painfully so, that whatever the restraints were made of slid smoothly along my skin instead of chafing it, all pointed to the possibility that whoever had done this to me didn't intend for me to be hurt.

(_But you're NAKED.)_

Perhaps the blindfold was so that I couldn't identify my surroundings later. Maybe they were going to let me go.

(_BUT YOU'RE NAKED!_)

I felt the panic trying to make a reappearance, so tried frantically to think of something else, to make sense of how I came to be in this position in the first place. What was the last thing I remembered before waking up here?

I realized that I had no frame of reference to work backward from; so instead I tried to remember this morning, but there was nothing special to grasp a hold of. I got up. Went to school. Went home. Jess came…

_Port Angeles. Dress shopping. Bookstore._

_Suddenly images started flooding through my mind. Port Angeles. The dance. I wasn't going, but I helped Jess and Angela pick out dresses. Books. I wanted to find a bookstore, so we split up. Meet up later at the restaurant for dinner. _

_The bookstore Jess told me about was weird. I tried to find another one. Wandering around town. Heading south toward some storefronts, but they turn out to be vacant. For Lease signs. Too early to head to the restaurant, so I wander aimlessly. _

_Warehouses instead of shops now, I went too far south. Think about turning around; decide to circle the block instead. It's getting dark. I hear footsteps. Walk faster. Turn the corner and realize my mistake. Now I'm behind the warehouses. Fences. Locked gates. _

_Footsteps are closer now, faster. Hurry to the corner and turn. No streetlights. I don't realize it's a blind drive to the back of another building until it's too late. Turn around to hurry back, but the footsteps are turning the corner now. Close. So close. I see them now. There are 4 of them. They see me, too. Realize that I have nowhere to go. They slow down, fan out slightly. Nowhere to run. Nobody around to hear if I scream._

_I try to think through the panic, to remember any self-defense moves I may have learned. Nothing. I have nothing. Wait. There was a movie once. It was stupid, I wasn't really paying attention. But I remember one part—heel of the hand to the nose. Shove it into the brain. I'm probably not strong enough, but maybe I can break it. Then run. They're more spread out now, closer now, surrounding me. One is closer than the others. The one in front of me is closest. He's between the road and me. Maybe I can break his nose, run for it. I fall down a lot when I run, but it's my only chance. I brace myself, feet apart. He's closer now, almost close enough._

_Things get fuzzy after that. I remember screaming. Not mine. It hasn't been a windy day up till now, but suddenly I am buffeted by one strong gust after another._

I closed my eyes tightly behind the blindfold and tried desperately to bring it into focus; I knew that this was important. This was what I needed to remember.

_Blood. I don't see it, but I can smell it. Rust and salt, and suddenly I'm so dizzy. I slump to the pavement, breathing through my mouth, trying not to be sick._

_Silence. Somebody standing in front of me. Shiny black shoes. Not one of the men from before. The smell is stronger now. There are drops of blood on the shiny black shoes. I close my eyes. Then I'm flying. _

My breath caught on a sob, and suddenly I was utterly terrified. My concern over my nakedness now seemed insignificant and trivial. What was a little nudity when compared to violent, bloody death? Because I remembered the screaming, I remembered the blood. I was not leaving this room alive.

The cloth over my eyes was wet now, and my teeth were clamped over my lower lip as I tried to control the cries threatening to choke me. My entire body was shaking, my breath coming in gasps.

I heard a door close in the distance.

I froze. Listened.

Nothing.

Another door closed, this one closer.

Much, much closer.

"My apologies for having left you alone for so long. I wanted to be here when you woke up, but there were some urgent matters that required my attention."

The voice dripped over me like warm honey, sizzling along my nerve endings and causing me to shiver under the light sheet. I hadn't heard so much as a footstep, yet the voice was coming from right next to the bed I was spread out on.

"Don't worry, though. Everything is taken care of now, so the remainder of our time together should be uninterrupted."

It had only been a second, but this time the voice came from across the room. I whipped my head toward the sound, an instinctual but useless act since the blindfold prevented me from seeing anything. There was the merest whisper of displaced air against my ear as he whispered against it. "You're trembling, love. Are you chilled? Would you like for me to start a fire in the hearth?"

There was a faintly mocking undertone to his velvet voice now, and I realized that he was toying with me, playing my reactions and emotions with an expertise that terrified me. I understood that this was what he wanted, my fear, my terror, but I couldn't control it. I couldn't help but remember the screams, the blood, and a small cry escaped my lips before I once again clamped down on my bottom lip with my teeth. I felt a sharp sting, and registered the sound of a hiss at the same time that I felt a brush of air against my face and tasted the coppery tang in my mouth. I fought off the nausea that threatened, holding my breath and desperately listening for a clue as to where he was now.

At first there was only the sound of my heart frantically thumping in my chest. Then a low, strained chuckle from the foot of the bed startled a short scream from me.

"Silly little lamb, are you really so impatient to move things along? Well, if you insist…"

With that the sheet covering me began to move, caressing my skin as it slowly slipped down my body. The feel of it dragging across my nipples was like nothing I had ever experienced, and a light gasp escaped me before I could stop it. The low chuckle came again, less strained this time but still with a discernable tension underlying it, as the sheet continued its slow journey down, revealing my pale skin to him inch by inch.

Finally I lay there, bare and vulnerable before him, and I could feel the blood rush to my skin as I blushed more deeply than I ever had before. He groaned softly, whether from my nudity or the blood pooling under my skin I didn't know. All humor was gone now, and the tension laid thick and heavy like a blanket over the room. My breathing was heavy and labored, the fear still there but now licking around the edges of something else, something I didn't understand.

I knew I should be terrified, but I was so off balance by now that I no longer knew what I was supposed to be afraid of anymore. I didn't know why I was here. If he wanted me dead, wouldn't he have done it in the road where he found me? Where he had most likely killed the 4 men who had been stalking me? Why go to all the trouble to bring me here first? There was the obvious answer, of course. But somehow I believed that there was more than that. Just what I couldn't say, but I was sure that there was, indeed, more to me being here than just the obvious reasons.

I jumped as much as my bonds would allow when I felt an icy-cold touch against the bottom of my left foot. It slowly traveled down and over the heel before tracing the restraint around my ankle. I thought I heard a low hum of approval before the touch slid its way up my leg to the inside of my knee. It lingered there for a moment before lightly making its way up my trembling thigh, stopping again to brush back and forth across the joint of my hip. What began as one fingertip became 4 by the time his touch reached my stomach, and they swirled softly around my navel before traveling up my breastbone. They edges of his hand brushed the insides of my breasts on its way up, causing my nipples to tingle as they tightened even more. I was panting as he softly traced my collarbones, before closing his hand around my neck. There he stayed, my jugular and carotid arteries fluttering and pulsing under his touch. I lay there, paralyzed with fear as his fingers pressed into the skin under my jaw with enough force to bruise. Was this it? Was I going to die now? His hand was like cold steel against my throat, and I instinctively knew that with one squeeze, one twist of his wrist, he could end my life.

I felt his breath against my cheek first, followed by cold hard lips as they coasted up my jaw line.

"Lovely little lamb, do you realize your danger, I wonder?" his soft velvet voice murmured against the shell of my ear, followed by a dark chuckle. "Oh, perhaps you think you do. I can feel your heart racing, smell the fear coming off you in waves" he was growling now, honeyed voice low and rough and menacing. Frissons of electricity ran through my body, from my outstretched fingertips to my toes, causing me to shiver and gasp as his hand tightened almost imperceptibly around my neck one last time before releasing it.

"Tell me," his voice was more serious now, the mocking edge gone momentarily. "Tell me what you're thinking right now." I didn't really understand what he said next; indeed it was muttered so softly that I could have been mistaken about what I thought I heard. "I thought the silence would be refreshing, but not knowing is driving me insane."

I couldn't understand what I was feeling, wanted to scream out my confusion, beg and plead for him to tell me what was happening to me. I was afraid—so very afraid—but also _more_. More what, I didn't know. All I knew was that I was shivering uncontrollably even though my body felt not just warm, but almost overheated. I sparked and tingled every time his breath wafted across me, every time his cold touch brushed my skin, every time I heard his voice. _What was wrong with me? What had he done to me?_

"Isabella!" His commanding tone, along with the shock of hearing my name on his lips for the first time, caused my head to jerk toward him as I tried instinctively to look at his face. I could feel his face very close to mine, as if he was trying to see my eyes through the veil of the blindfold. I breathed him in, and was nearly undone by the sweet smell of his breath as it mingled with my own.

"Tell me, Isabella", he crooned softly. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what is going through that intriguing little brain of yours to make you tremble so." His lips were so close that I could feel them moving a hairsbreadth away from my own, and I was incapable of forming a coherent thought. At the same time, I was also unable to resist his command, and my lips formed whispered words without benefit of conscious thought.

"Fast…Strong…Cold." I could almost feel his confusion; it matched my own. Part of me didn't really understand the words that were spilling from my lips, but there was another part that quailed in terror, screaming at me to shut up. But I couldn't. And as my lips formed one final word, the rest of me made the connection. The terrifying, bone-chilling, _impossible,_ connection.

"Blood."

There was shocked silence, broken only by the trip-hammer thudding of my heart. Neither of us was breathing, although I suspected now that only one of us needed to. When I felt his hands on the sides of my face the breath I had been holding whooshed from me noisily before I dragged another into my aching chest. Slowly, gently, his hands moved up the sides of my face until they met the cloth of the blindfold. Slowly, gently, they lifted it up and over my head. Slowly, gently, they brushed the hair away from my face.

"Isabella, open your eyes."

His voice commanded me, and even though it was the last thing on Earth I wanted to do, I was helpless to disobey. Slowly they fluttered open, blinking repeatedly as they tried to adjust to the sudden dim light after being in the dark for so long. His face came into focus, and my breath once again stopped in my throat.

He was _beautiful_.

Devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful.

His was not a face you would ever expect to see outside of the airbrushed images in a fashion magazine, or perhaps sculpted by an old master as the face of an angel—or a Greek God. Alabaster white skin; sharp jaw line; pouty red lips; perfectly sculpted cheekbones. His hair was a messy mop of bronze; some of the too long locks tipping forward over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes.

His deep crimson eyes.

"How?" His musical voice was hard, wary. For the first time I felt like I was hearing the real him, and not some character he was playing for my benefit.

"My dad's best friend is Billy Black. His son Jacob is about my age, so we've been playing together practically since we were born."

He still looked puzzled, as if trying to figure out how this was answering his question, so I continued.

"Billy Black is one of the Quileute elders." I watched as his confused expression froze in place. "I've been hearing Quileute legends all my life. When we were young, some of the older kids used to tell us the scary ones, trying to frighten us like bigger kids will do. There was one…."

"Go on," he said.

"About vampires."

His face was unmoving, a seraphic image carved in stone. Only the red eyes staring deep into mine gave away the demon inside the angel. After several minutes he began to speak in a cool, even voice that I hadn't heard from him before, his eyes boring into mine relentlessly.

"You know then, you won't be leaving this room."

I felt tears threatening again, and blinked them back furiously. I couldn't force words from my throat, so merely nodded. Of course I knew this. I had known ever since I remembered the screaming, remembered the blood.

"I can end it now, if you want. I can make it quick and painless; you will barely feel a thing."

This took me by surprise, and I tore my gaze away from his to look up at my hands bound above me, then down toward my feet. When I looked back to him he had to have seen the questions written plainly on my face, for a small smile quirked up one side of his mouth for the briefest instant.

"No, that's not what I had planned at all, but I find that circumstances have conspired against me in this instance. It's amazing what the human body is able to endure when one has hope; now that I have taken that away it seems only fair to give you the option of quitting the game early, so to speak."

I couldn't speak, couldn't think. His red eyes seemed to burn right through mine, as if he was trying to look straight down into my soul. I felt myself growing somnolent under his stare, my own eyes trying to droop closed as my body relaxed into the soft bed underneath me. It would be effortless to give myself over to slumber, to take the easy out that he was offering. Painless. He promised it would be painless, and that sounded like the best deal I was going to get. My lids slipped closed as I let out a sigh, feeling sleepy and lethargic as I drifted toward blissful unawareness.

Then his icy fingers ghosted across my cheek, sliding under my jaw to tilt my head up and to the side, and the same electric current I had felt before fired through my body at the point where he touched me. With a sharp gasp my eyes flew back open and I was finally able to force a word past the obstruction lodged in my throat. It was barely a whisper, but of course he was able to hear it clearly.

"Wait."

Licking my lips, I focused on my breathing as he hovered above me, waiting to see what my next move would be. He held all the cards, all the power, and had all along. He may have intended that I never realize the hopelessness of my situation, but that didn't change the fact that the game was rigged and I was always going to be the one who lost. Yet still...he was offering me a way out. Maybe this way was better after all, because now I had the choice I wouldn't have been offered otherwise. Whether I chose quick and painless, or...not so quick (and, I assumed, not so painless), it would be just that—my choice. And I didn't intend to make that decision until I had a few answers.

"Just wait."

He sat up, no longer leaning over me, no longer touching me; still staring at me, but this time with a slightly frustrated look on his previously impassive face. Not as if he was upset, but rather as if I was a puzzle that he couldn't put together because it was missing essential pieces.

"What's my other option?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You offered quick and painless, but you never did say what the other option was. It's hard to make an informed decision when I feel that I'm missing some necessary information. So, I'm just wondering; if not quick and painless, then what?"

Now he actually looked flustered, as if I had surprised him and he didn't quite know what to do about it. "What do you mean, then what? If quick and painless is one of your options, then why would you even want to know what the others are? What does it matter?"

"It matters because it's my life! And before it ends I want to know what I'm missing! I've barely even lived, and now it's over, and if you planned on torturing me, or dismembering me, or something equally painful, then tell me! Tell me, and I can pick the easy way out, and know that I made the right choice. But you went to a lot of trouble to bring me here, to set this scene, and before you went all noble and shit, I was starting to feel things I didn't even know were possible. And if that's what I'm going to be missing out on then I don't want quick! So just…just lay it out for me. If you're going to give me a choice, then for God's sake _give me a choice._"

He had been perfectly still during my rant, and stayed that way for several seconds after it was over—just watching me with an inscrutable expression on his perfect face. Then he seemed to make his decision, as before I could blink he had moved from sitting beside me to hovering over me again, this time straddling my middle as his hand trailed up my arms to my bound wrists. Wrapping his hand around both wrists, he leaned forward until his face was inches from mine, his eyes burning flames that scorched and sizzled wherever they touched.

"You want to know what I had planned for you, little lamb?" His free hand traveled up and down my arm, from my shackled wrists down to my shoulder, then back up again.

"Should I tell you all the things I want to do to you? All the different ways I want to make you scream?"

Suddenly his face wasn't above mine anymore; his nose was traveling up my arm, following the same route his hand had mapped out just moments before. When he reached my wrist, his cold tongue came out to taste the skin just below the binding around it, making my body shudder as the now-familiar electric currents radiated out from the point of contact. Suddenly there was a sharp sting as one of his nails sliced into the tender flesh, making me cry out in shock. The pain increased as it was joined by a sucking sensation as his mouth latched on and took several slow pulls. With my head tilted back I could see his throat moving as he swallowed again and again, and I whimpered in discomfort. His tongue came out again, laving the skin, and this time my whimper had nothing to do with pain of any kind.

His nose was retreating back down my arm, inhaling deeply as it went, until he was nuzzling the skin under my ear, his tongue coming out to taste the bruises forming underneath my jaw. "That, my love, is what I want from you. What I intend to take from you." His teeth nipped at my shoulder, the sharp sting soothed immediately by a swipe of his tongue and I couldn't keep back the moan that escaped me. "Everywhere" he breathed against my lips just before he bit down on the lower one, right where it was still raw from my own teeth abusing it earlier. My sharp cry was lost in his mouth as his tongue once again laved over the tiny injury, stopping the blood and sealing the small cut. "All night long" he murmured as his nail sliced a trail across one of my breasts. The pain was sudden and intense, and this time he didn't lick immediately. Instead he watched as one of his tapered fingers swept through the blood welling up and spilling out of the long cut, spreading it around and over the white skin. I tried not to breathe, but it was a wasted effort since I was practically panting by this point. My head began to spin as the scent hit me, but suddenly my body was arching and singing as his tongue swept over my breast, licking and sucking everywhere but the two places I most needed it. He steadfastly avoided my nipple as he cleaned all traces of blood off my mound before finally licking the still-seeping trench he had laid open.

He started to move his bloody finger toward his mouth, but stopped and looked at it for a moment before moving his eyes to my own mouth. Slowly he pressed his finger to my lips, parting them and forcing it deep inside, swirling it around and rubbing it against my tongue. Suddenly his lips were on mine, his tongue in my mouth, sweeping along my teeth and rubbing against my own as his hands wrapped themselves in my hair, holding my face immobile against his. His tongue retreated back into his own mouth, pulling mine along with it, and I felt a light sting as his teeth glided across it. Then he was sucking on my tongue, lapping at it with his own, and my whole mouth was tingling in a way I had never imagined possible. He slid his tongue back into my mouth, and we both moaned as I returned the favor, sucking on it and massaging it with my own. I wanted to tangle my fingers into his messy hair and pull his face even closer to mine, but my hands were still immobilized and I could only lay helpless beneath him as he mauled my mouth with delicious abandon.

I gasped for breath as his lips left mine to trail hard kisses over my chin and down the column of my throat. He moaned low and deep as he felt my pulse beating away under his tongue, and sucked a small bit of skin into his mouth for a moment before pulling away.

"You belong to me, Isabella. Your blood, your body, your pleasure, and your pain…I own it all. And I'm going to take it. I'm going to take everything, over and over again, until you have nothing left to give. So tell me, little lamb. I can make it all end, but you have to tell me now. You won't get another chance."

And I would like to say that I didn't know what to do, that I struggled with the choice given me, agonized over which path to choose. But that would be a lie, because the decision was already made, long before the question was ever asked. I was his from the moment he first touched me.

"No" I breathed out. Still he didn't move, and I squirmed underneath him as I tried to clear my head enough to form words that would make him understand. "More" I finally managed, and when he remained motionless above me I let out a quiet sob as I threw my head back, offering my throat up as I pleaded. "Please…_more_."

Then I was screaming as trails of fiery agony carved their way from the base of my throat down to my stomach. My screams tapered off into choked sobs as an icy hand repeated the movement, soothing the burn even as it pulled at the torn flesh, at once gentle and cruel. I could feel blood, thick and hot as it ran down my stomach and dripped over my ribcage.

Then his tongue…oh God…his tongue was lapping up the blood that was pooling in my navel, slow and deliberate as it traced one small stream after another back to its source. My stomach trembled and my lower body twitched involuntarily, and he let out a low growl as his hands gripped my hips and held me still as he continued to create icy trails across my skin.

I was so focused on the feel of his mouth that I almost didn't even notice the pain anymore, until that magical tongue began to slowly lick and lave its way up one of the burning lines running down my sternum. Slowly, so very slowly, he moved up my body, taking a bit more pain away with every light caress of his tongue. His cheek brushed the inside of my breast as he moved up my chest; I gasped as a tendril of his shaggy hair tickled my nipple, shooting a jolt of electricity straight down through my abdomen.

As he finished with the first wound and moved back down to begin on the second, his hands slowly began to slide upward, thumbs caressing softly as his palms followed the curve of my waist and inched up over my ribs. They reached the outside of my breasts just as he finished with the second line and moved down to start on the third, his thumbs still sweeping back and forth gently as with each pass they just barely brushed the edges of my aching nipples.

I was writhing as he started on the fourth and final path upward, what little bit of pain that was left no match for the delicious sensations his hands and mouth were causing. Just as he reached the top of the last cut and sealed it shut with a final light flick, he moved his hands one last inch and I cried out as for the first time his thumbs dragged all the way across my nipples.

Lifting his head, he watched with hooded eyes as his thumbs rubbed over my peaks again and again, causing my head to thrash from side to side and my back to arch, pressing me more firmly into his hands. I couldn't stop myself from yelping as he bent forward and lightly licked a pebbled pink tip, then pinched it gently as he repeated the action on the other side.

The area between my legs was throbbing now, and my hips writhed as I instinctively tried to rub my thighs together to relieve the ache. The bonds around my ankles prevented such actions, however, and I mewled in desperation as the sensations built to a fever pitch when I felt a cold mouth close over my hardened peak and start sucking.

His hand was busy with the nipple not in his mouth, pinching and rolling it between long fingers before pulling gently. I was ripped from my blissful stupor when he sliced the tip open with the same thumb that had been bringing it intense pleasure just moments ago, and his mouth abandoned its mate to latch on and greedily suck.

Pain and pleasure intertwined so closely together that I couldn't separate the two, couldn't do anything except shudder and cry out an endless litany of pleas, to God and to Him, my own personal demon.

Finally he swiped his tongue across my throbbing nipple before releasing it from his mouth with an audible 'pop'. Slipping a hand behind my head, he buried it in my hair and yanked my head backward, causing my neck to arch painfully. "God's not here, little lamb. It's only you and me tonight, and we've only just barely begun."

Suddenly he was gone from above me, and my dazed eyes searched the room until they found him at the foot of the bed, his burning gaze tracing my splayed legs and twitching hips. A devious smirk curled up the corners of his mouth as his crimson eyes lifted to mine. "Such a pretty picture you make, love." His hand reached out and fingered the rope tying my ankle to the bedpost. "Yet, as alluring as you are laid out like this, it doesn't quite work with what I have planned next. I think a few slight adjustments are in order."

As much as I wanted to see what he meant by _adjustments_, I had to close my eyes tightly against the feeling of vertigo as he blurred around the room. Seconds later I felt my feet being pulled up high, and my eyes flew back open to be met by the sight of my legs spread in a wide V as they pointed straight up into the air. Confused, I looked at the material that led from my ankle upward and over a piece of wood seemingly suspended in midair. My eyes traced its path as it stretched across the width of the bed, curved around another piece of wood, and continued down until it ended in a knot around my other ankle.

_What the...?_

Looking once again, I realized for the first time that I was lying in what looked to be an antique canopy bed. Since the moment he had removed the blindfold, I had been so focused on him—his perfect face, his voice, the things he was doing to me—that I hadn't noticed anything at all about the room around me. I looked around now, vaguely curious about my surroundings, but the dim light faded out quickly once it passed the edges of the bed and most of the room was ensconced in the darkness of a cloudy winter's night. What light there was came from 2 small sconces on either side of the massive headboard, and the subtle flickering told me that they probably held actual candles instead of electric light bulbs. For a few moments I wondered why somebody would have a canopy bed without any canopy or drapes or anything on it, but then I looked at the knot around my ankle again and made the connection. _Oh, no wonder it felt so smooth and silky against my skin. Probably silk drapes, or something similar. Not rope. Nice improvisation._

A slight movement caught my attention, and I looked down to the foot of the bed again to see Him standing there framed between my raised, spread legs.

_And oh Holy Christ, he was naked._ He looked more than ever like he just stepped down from Mount Olympus, sheer perfection carved in marble by God himself, because surely no mere man could create such beauty out of cold stone. I wanted to admire his perfectly sculpted chest, his chiseled abs, the lean line of his hip and strong muscles of his thighs. But I couldn't, because my eyes wouldn't tear themselves away from the part of him that jutted out, strong and proud and long and hard and just...just...

Beautiful.

Perfect.

_Mine._

One could almost mistake him for an angel, except angels didn't have glittering crimson eyes that stared at you with such hunger and want that you thought you would literally burst into flames under their intense regard. Angels didn't climb up onto beds and place themselves between the raised and spread legs of the girl that they had kidnapped, stripped, and tied up for their pleasure. An angel wouldn't smirk as his hand brushed up the curve of this girl's ass until his fingers were dancing across her inner thigh, inches away from the scorching heat that threatened to spontaneously combust if he didn't press his cold touch to it soon.

And an angel most certainly wouldn't lower his head, crimson eyes never leaving wide brown ones, until his face was mere inches away from the juncture of her thighs. He wouldn't breathe in the scent of her arousal and growl softly, then turn his head and place his tongue to her inner thigh. He wouldn't slide that tongue up her leg slowly, all the way past her knee, along the curve of her calf, finally stopping once he reached the binding at her ankle. And most of all, he wouldn't look directly into her eyes as he used the nail of his first finger to open up the tender flesh just under that binding.

I didn't cry out this time, even though it burned like hell. He pulled his eyes from mine, and we both watched in fascination as the red streams slowly made their way down the wet trail he had laid along my leg. Watched as they passed the curve of my knee and swept down my inner thigh. Watched as they pooled at the base of my leg and began to drip down toward the curve of my buttocks. Then I was the only one watching as his mouth captured them before they could go any further, watching his face between my legs as his tongue swept across my skin mere inches from where I needed it to be, watching as his eyes came back up to meet mine and his mouth sucked lightly at my flesh. My eyes kept trying to close under the weight of my heavy lids, but I forced them to stay open because I couldn't miss this. He was so beautiful, and the things he was doing to me were so beautiful, and when he moved back up to my ankle and licked and made the pain stop and kissed his way back down my leg and lapped up all the little crimson drops and finally made it back down to the joint of my hip and then farther and when his tongue finally found my lips it was so so so beautiful.

I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, and let my head fall back onto the bed as I moaned at the feel of his tongue slipping between my outer lips. Lightly it licked at the entrance to my opening before slipping inside and beginning a rhythmic in-and-out motion. "Oh, yes" he murmured against my heated flesh, "sweet little love, everything about you tastes so delicious." His magical tongue slipped upward and I couldn't hold back my cry as it swept over my clit for the first time. He made a sound of approval and repeated the motion, then wrapped his lips around the little nub and sucked it into his mouth. Whimpers and cries fell from my lips as he continued to alternately suck and lick at my bundle of nerves as his fingers drifted back and forth across my entrance. My entire body was shaking, trembling on the precipice of something huge as a tingling unfurled in my stomach and radiated outward through my arms and legs. Then he slipped a long finger inside as he sucked hard on my clit and flicked his tongue back and forth over it, and I screamed louder than I have ever screamed before as every muscle in my body clenched down before exploding outward. Dimly I was aware that I was twisting and writhing in my bonds, my legs held so wide apart that the feeling just kept going on and on as his face stayed pressed tightly to the apex of my thighs, tongue frantically working me over as a second finger forced its way inside. Again I screamed as before I could even come down from my first orgasm a new series of detonations had me convulsing once more. His fingers continued to thrust inside of me even as his mouth withdrew, and half a second later I felt his teeth sink into my inner thigh as he sliced through my femoral artery and began to drink.

Pleasure more intense than I had ever imagined possible, followed by the excruciating agony of his teeth slicing through my flesh as easily as if it was butter, had sent me into a kind of shock. I could hear the sounds of his growls as he fed, burrowing his face more deeply into my leg as his fingers continued to thrust. Then his thumb reached up to circle my clitoris, causing my whole body to jerk in reaction and his teeth to clamp down even tighter in my thigh as he snarled. I was crying now, my face wet with tears as I sobbed helplessly in pain and fear. This was it. I could already feel the lightheadedness setting in; see my vision darkening around the edges. The heat from my orgasms had faded, and I could feel myself trembling from cold and reaction. I tried to block out the pain in my leg and focus on the pleasure his fingers were still bringing as they slid in and out of my wetness; to ignore everything but the feeling of fullness and friction and the deliciously painful touches of his thumb against my engorged clit. If I was going to die now, I at least wanted the last thing I felt to be pleasurable. I was thankful to him for at least giving me that.

Then his teeth released their grip on me and his tongue laved over the entire area, taking the pain away at once. I whined when he pulled his fingers out of me, but forgot about them when I felt _him_ pressing against me. "Isabella, look at me" he breathed. Unable to resist, my eyes found his as his hands grabbed hold of my hips and lifted them off the bed. With one strong thrust he was inside, tearing through my innocence and seating himself deep within me. His jaw clenched as he immediately pulled back and surged forward again, setting a fast rhythm as his gaze bored into mine.

The initial pain faded almost immediately, soon replaced by the now familiar clenching in my stomach as he drove into me again and again. His hands on my hips gripped tightly enough to bruise as his pace increased until he was slamming and pounding into me, face twisting into a snarl as his red eyes burned into mine.

"Please" I panted as he heaved between my thighs. "Please...I need...please...oh, God...more...please".

"Yes!" he rasped as he leaned forward over my body, the new angle allowing him to grind against my clit with every thrust. His hips snapped forward with enough force to drive me deep into the bed with every thrust, his hands now gripping the mattress on either side of my head and his face only inches from mine. "I love hearing you beg," he rasped out, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. "Love the way you plead so sweetly." He was moving impossibly fast now, hips pounding an erratic tattoo against me. "Love watching you come for me" and I arched my head back and cried out my release as I clenched down around him.

My orgasm went on and on as he rode me through it, finally burying his face in my neck as he thrust a few final times before holding himself deep inside and groaning with his own climax.

I was drifting in exhausted bliss, vaguely expecting to feel his teeth imbed themselves in my throat now that he was finished. I didn't care; I always knew how this would end, and could only be grateful to him for giving me the most pleasurable night of anybody's life-ever-first.

I was surprised, then, when instead of his teeth at my throat I felt my legs and arms being released from their bindings and the stiff muscles gently rubbed down. Then a soft weight settled around me and I felt my hair being brushed away from my face as a finger trailed down my cheek. "Rest now, love," he said softly, and I felt a confused frown pull at my face. His voice was amused when he spoke again. "You didn't honestly think that we were done, did you? No, sweet Isabella, I am far from finished with you. So you had best sleep while you may, for you won't be getting much of it tonight."

With that he was gone, and I snuggled down into the warmth of the comforter he had spread over me as I let sleep take me.

I don't know how many times he awakened me during the night; after that first time it all began to blur together into a collage of pleasure and pain, although he never drank deeply from me again. Instead there were tiny cuts that were only allowed to weep a few drops before they were quickly licked shut, supplemented by occasional small sips from the bend of an elbow or the tender inside of a wrist.

Over and over he took me, sometimes with harsh urgency and other times with a gentle tenderness that brought tears to my eyes. Countless times our mouths found each other, and now my fingers were allowed to lose themselves in his soft hair and hold him close as we enjoyed each other. Now my hands could smooth themselves over his sleek back, could grasp his shoulders desperately as he rode me hard, could run over his smooth chest as his head fell back and his hands guided the movement of my hips on him. Now my legs could wrap themselves around his slim waist, could push against my chest as my ankles rested on his shoulders, could squeeze hard around his head when his mouth pressed to my center. Hard breaths and soft words filled the air, moans and pants and cries the music our bodies danced to.

But time moves forward, as it always will, and as gray morning light began to enter the room I knew that mine was drawing to a close. Our movements were no longer enough to warm me, and a deep chill had settled into my bones—whether from loss of blood or being pressed to his icy body I did not know and couldn't find it within myself to care. I had found myself drifting in and out of consciousness even as he moved slow and deep within me, and now fought with grim determination to hold onto awareness as his movements quickened for what I knew would be the final time. I longed to wrap myself around him, but my limbs no longer seemed able to obey the commands my brain sent out and I could only lay still and motionless as his eyes closed and he tensed above me. Even with great concentration I could no longer bring his perfect face into clear focus, and I mourned the loss deeply as darkness clouded my vision and my eyes refused to remain open any longer.

"Please…" Each breath was an effort now, even as he rolled off me so I was not crushed by his weight. "Please…" There was so much that I wanted to say here at the end, but the words flitted in and out of my mind too quickly for me to grasp. In the end all I could force out was a small plea; "Please…don't forget me."

A heavy sigh greeted my words, and I thought I felt lips ghost over my forehead, over my cheeks, over my lips. His voice sounded almost defeated, although my hazy mind could conjure up no reason why that would be so.

"Poor little lamb, you still don't realize your danger, do you? You may think you do, but you would be wrong." His lips now pressed cold kisses against my exposed throat as his arms gathered me up and held me cradled close. Soft words murmured against the hollow of my throat made no sense, so I didn't even try to understand them as I drifted. "No, your real danger is that now that I have finally found you, I just may never let you go."

The last thing I felt as I drifted into unconsciousness was the sting of his teeth as they slid into my neck.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay people, here's the deal. If you made it through the first chapter, then you already know that there are some dark and disturbing themes in this story. I must warn you, there are parts of this chapter that are extremely graphic and gruesome. Please don't read this if you are bothered by sex or gore.

There are a few lines taken directly from Twilight, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.

**WARNING: DARK SEXUAL THEMES, VIOLENCE, EXTREME GORE**

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Pain.

Such a small, unassuming little word. One syllable. 4 letters. Rhymes with plain.

So woefully inadequate.

Ache. Hurt. Torment. Agony. Suffering. Torture. Pain won the lottery, bought itself a nicer house and some new clothes, but at its heart is still the same scrawny kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

You can accessorize it with some pretty adjectives—see how smoothly "excruciating agony" rolls off the tongue? Or how about "unbearable suffering"? You can even double the dosage by turning one of the rich relatives into its own descriptive—"agonizing torture", for example. For any type of discomfort, any situation, any condition, there is supposed to be a definition, a turn of phrase, a particular arrangement of vowels and consonants that allows us to name it—and through naming it, to control it. But this…

There are no words.

For the first eternity, there were no thoughts; there was no meaning, no reasoning, and no consciousness. There was nothing but the fire that consumed all, that continued to burn long after everything should have turned to dusty ash and crumbled into nothing in its wake.

It could have been days, weeks, years—time had no meaning—before I began to realize that I had regained some ability to think. Although the…_pain_…had not decreased one tiny degree, my mind had grown, expanded, and I found I was able to think around it. I could remember what had happened to me, and finally understood where I was and why.

I consorted with the devil. I willingly gave myself to a demon, eagerly submitted my body to his, and reveled in the feel of him against me, inside me. I offered my blood to slake his thirst and cried out in ecstasy as I gave my body up to his hunger. And he took what I so willingly handed over; he took my blood, he took my body, then he took my life.

Now I was in hell.

Like the phoenix that rises from the ashes only to perish, again and again, in the blazing inferno—I would spend eternity burning in never-ending fire and brimstone.

So not worth it.

I had never been particularly religious, never attended church, never gave much thought to God or the devil, heaven or hell, angels or demons. When I made the choice to take what pleasure my dark angel had to offer, I thought that the pain he would inflict was the only price I would be called upon to pay. Ideas about eternal damnation and immortal souls never even entered into my consciousness, and now bitter regret consumed what little part of my mind could focus on anything but the conflagration that devoured me. It had not been worth this. No pleasure on Earth was worth this. The whole of my life, every beat of my heart, every breath I had ever taken—none of it was worth even a second of this…this…

Every beat of my heart.

Every beat of my heart?

Every…beat of…my heart.

_My heart was still beating._

Frantic, pounding beats had gradually become louder as my mind continued to expand—I didn't know how long I had been hearing them, not making the connection. Because dead people don't have heartbeats, right? And since I was in hell, me being dead was pretty much a given. So why would my heart be beating? Why would I be able to count the shallow breaths that rasped through my teeth? Wait, what?

Even as confusion swamped me, that small rational part of my brain was at work again, observing and cataloguing. Actually, it was now a much larger rational part, and it seemed to have been busy for a while already—I just hadn't realized it—because as soon as I turned my thoughts outward I instantly _knew_ several things.

My heart was beating. I was breathing. I had teeth, and hands, and feet, and most likely the rest of my body as well. I was on my back—on something soft. A coffin? No, not enclosed; there was the sense of space around me. A bed. _The same bed._ Not dead, then? But no, that was insane—impossible. Hell was the only logical explanation for the way every cell in my body was being razed to ash over and over again. Surely I couldn't still have limbs when it seemed as if I _must_ be just a pile of charred bones by now? Certainly I couldn't _actually_ be lying on a bed—the blistering heat would have had it bursting into flames within an instant. But in that case there should be no beats, no breaths, no fingers and toes, no strands of hair brushing against my ears…

Through all this, the racking fire went right on burning me. But there was so much space in my head now. Room to ponder my bewildering circumstances, room to remember what had happened, and room to wonder about the future, with still endless room to suffer in.

Pondering was getting me nowhere; I just kept going around in circles. Counting breaths and heartbeats (that may or may not be real) was tedious. Thinking about the future seemed pointless when I couldn't even decide what was going on in the present.

But remembering…

Remembering was like a tiny little bit of heaven in the midst of the apocalypse.

Over and over I replayed the events of my last night, because that had been by far the apex of my existence. The very best of it. There was nothing else I wanted to remember, no feeling I had ever known that even came close to what I had experienced at _his_ hands. From the very first time his velvet and honey voice washed over me, to the feel of his lips moving against my neck as he whispered his final words—every moment was precious to me.

The irony of the situation did not escape me; that while I was (maybe? probably?) burning in hell, I should find some small measure of relief in reliving the events that put me here.

On the fifth time through, however, I realized something. Even as my thoughts were getting clearer, my memories were growing dimmer. As if I was wearing a layered mourning hat and gradually dropping one veil after another over my face, things were becoming clouded and indistinct. I could no longer make out the sharp edge of his jaw line, the exact shade of red in his eyes. When he spoke, his gorgeous voice sounded far away, hollow and flat. I felt his touch as if through a gauzy shroud.

No.

NO!

Ignoring everything else in the infinite space that was now my brain, I trained all my growing powers of concentration on visualizing his perfect face, his perfect body, and the feelings his touch evoked within me. Moment by moment I relived everything, trying to see more clearly, but it was no use. It was slipping away from me, becoming lost in a thickening fog even as every other thing around me came into ever-sharper focus.

But I refused to give up so easily. I couldn't calm the racing of my heart or the ragged, panting breaths that scorched my throat. I couldn't escape the blazing furnace that my body had become. I couldn't make sense of where I was or if I was even still alive. But as long as I still had some form of consciousness, I would fight to keep the memories that had become my lifeline.

So I fought. I raged. Through sheer force of will I held on to each and every moment and refused to let them fade away. And although I wasn't able to regain their former clarity, I somehow managed to keep them from dissipating any further.

The endless burn raged on, and even as I struggled with my traitorous memory, I could feel myself continuing to grow stronger. When new noises came, I could listen.

A door closed somewhere below me—s_o I was upstairs_—but this time I could hear light footsteps as they crossed the floor and ascended a staircase. There was a whisper of air stirred by an opening door, the footsteps got closer, and then I felt light pressure brush my forehead and trail down my cheek. I couldn't feel the coolness of the fingers—the fire blistered away every memory of cool—but the touch was familiar nevertheless.

"So beautiful. You were already quite lovely, but I had no idea…" He trailed his fingertip down my arm, and when he reached my hand he lightly stroked the back of it for a few moments. His next words were quiet, distracted, almost as if he didn't realize he was saying them out loud. "The next year really is going to be near to unbearable; sometimes I wonder what on Earth I was thinking." With that his touch disappeared from my skin, and I heard him start to walk away before he stopped, let out a deep sigh, and returned to my side. The bed on either side of my head dipped underneath the weight of his hands as his lips brushed against mine for a moment.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not. But if you can...everything's going to be fine. I know you're in pain, but just a few hours more—tonight at the very latest—and it will all be over. You won't ever have to hurt again." There was pressure on my lips again, harder and longer than before, and then the rustle of fabric as he stood up again. "I have to leave again for a little bit, but I'll be back soon. I will be here when you wake up this time, I promise."

Then he was moving away once more, leaving the room, the house. Leaving me more confused than ever. When he first said it would all be over soon, I thought he meant that I would finally die. But then he promised to be here when I woke up…so what did that mean? There was a dim memory of whispered words threatening to never let me go…and he made mention of the next year…was it possible he had decided to keep me? I knew the thought should terrify me, but somehow it didn't. If he wanted me…I was his.

And still, through everything, the fire continued to burn.

Time passed. The memories were getting harder and harder to hold onto now, and it was taking every ounce of focus I had to keep them from fading out any more. When the pain changed, I barely noticed. Distantly, I realized that the fire was fading out from my fingers, my toes, even as in my heart it somehow, impossibly, burned even hotter. The parched thirst tearing at my throat, the furious new pace of my heart, the blazing sun in my chest…it was all of it secondary to the desperate need to keep the feel of him, the taste of him from disappearing. For a moment I thought I heard noises from downstairs again, but then...

My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note as it did its best to crash right through my ribcage. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun me, to break through the iron grip of my concentration as my back arched, bowed as if the fire was dragging me upward by my heart.

The fire constricted, concentrating inside that last remaining organ as with one final, desperate surge I lunged for my retreating memories and held on with all my might. Once, twice, three times more my heart stuttered, before giving one last quiet thud.

There was no sound. No breathing. Not even mine. Whatever it was, it was over, and for a moment, the absence of pain was all I could comprehend.

I didn't realize someone was in the room with me until I felt fingertips stroke across my face. The touch was smooth and soft, the feeling tingly and electric. Familiar, but _so wrong_.

My reaction was instinctive and instantaneous. Within less than half a second I had flipped off of the bed and was crouched in a defensive pose against the far wall as a low growl bubbled up from my chest. My eyes swept the room, searching for any sign of danger before settling on the figure standing next to the bed.

Had I thought he was beautiful before? Had I really imagined that my feeble memory did any justice to the absolute flawlessness of his face? I may as well have been blind. Perfect, flawless, beautiful, exquisite…none of these were adequate. Once again, there were no words.

I really needed better words.

It took almost another full second before realization hit.

_Fast._ I had flown across the room faster than it would normally take to blink.

_Strong._ I could feel the strength in my coiled muscles, could see the wariness in his eyes as they watched me, the guarded way he held himself.

_Cold._ That was why his touch had felt so wrong—it should have been cold, but it hadn't been. It felt warm, because we were the same temperature now.

_"Poor little lamb, you still don't realize your danger, do you? You may think you do, but you would be wrong." Cold kisses and soft murmurs against my throat. "No, your real danger is that now that I have finally found you, I just may never let you go." Sharp teeth sliding into my neck._

He didn't kill me. He didn't somehow keep me alive and human so that he could continue to feed from me. He changed me, made me a vampire like him. His equal.

He wanted to keep me.

Before I even recognized my intentions, I had launched myself across the room. If I had stopped for even a moment to think then I would have realized it was probably a bad idea; with the careful way he was regarding me I would have known he would expect it to be an attack. But I didn't stop, I didn't think, and I had only an instant to take in the look of alarm that crossed his face before my hands tangled in his glorious hair, my lips crashed into his, and my momentum sent us tumbling into the floor. Not onto the floor—_into_ the floor—where I suddenly found myself flipped onto my back with my hands pinned above my head.

His pose above me was aggressive, dominating, but his expression was more confused than anything else. His eyes searched my face closely, and understanding my mistake I did my best to lie still underneath him while he decided whether or not I was a threat. Eventually his grip on my wrists loosened, and I kept my movements slow and careful as I pulled my arms free. Still moving slowly, I brought my hands to his shoulders before sliding one down his chest and around his back to splay between his shoulder blades. My other hand slipped around his neck and then up to the back of his head, once again tangling itself into his hair.

Never breaking eye contact, I gently tugged his head down until his lips were pressed to mine.

And that was the end of slow and gentle.

The tenuous hold I had on my control was completely obliterated the moment I tasted his mouth, so sweet and warm as I devoured it with wet, hungry kisses. I heard him moan as he grasped my face, angling it and tipping my chin up to allow his tongue maximum access. Our mouths were ravenous-lips, tongues, and teeth hitting and scraping against each other as we battled for dominance of the kiss. My legs fell open when he rocked his lower body against me, and he settled into place between them as I arched up into him, seeking more friction. Our clothing shredded like wet tissue under our frantic hands, and I couldn't get enough of the feel if his bare skin against mine—the soft silkiness of it under my sensitive fingertips, the low-voltage current that racked my body wherever we touched. My nails scraping down his back had him throwing his head back and hissing as his hips pressed harder against me, and I took the opportunity to attack his neck with my mouth. God, his skin tasted exquisite, like nothing I had ever known before. I had dim memories of licking him, tasting him, but my weak human senses had obviously not been able to appreciate just how delicious he was. I needed more.

Before I knew it I had rolled us over, the nightstand beside the bed crumbling under his weight as his shoulder slammed into it. My legs straddled his hips as I leaned over him, nibbling and licking at his collarbone before moving down to his sleek chest. I delighted in the give of his flesh under my mouth and hands; so different than the hard, cold stone I had felt before. My hands stroked their way downward, relishing the way his abdominal muscles trembled under their touch. My mouth licked and sucked its way to a small hard nipple, and I swiped it with the flat of my tongue just as one hand closed around his hard length. Something that sounded like half growl, half roar, escaped him as in a movement so fast it should have been dizzying he sat us up, spun around, and slammed my back against the wall hard enough to break through the sheetrock.

His mouth was ferocious on mine now, his hands gripping my ass and hoisting me up against him until his hardness was sliding against my slippery folds. I wrapped my legs around his back as he adjusted his grip on me, grasping my hips now and positioning me so that the head of his cock nudged at my entrance. He thrust his hips upward at the same time that he jerked mine down onto him, impaling me completely with one smooth movement. I cried out at the sudden sensation, shocked at the way I could feel every inch of him so intensely. He used his grip on my hips to move me up and down on him in time with his thrusts, and I could feel the way each ridge and vein massaged my inner walls with every stroke.

I squirmed against him as the pressure built, my hands clawing at his shoulders and his mouth swallowing the desperate cries I couldn't control. The intensity of the sensations, the sheer force of my arousal, was like nothing I could have imagined; nothing in my former life could have prepared me for this. Even the endless night we had spent together paled in comparison—I just hadn't been capable of _feeling_ this much before.

I could feel my inner muscles fluttering and clenching around him, could feel the electricity spreading through my body as it prepared to combust, and it suddenly wasn't enough. I had the overwhelming need to mark him, claim him—to fuck him into submission before I let myself come undone. As much as he had made me his, I now needed to make him mine.

I let instinct take over as I grabbed onto his hair, yanking his mouth away from mine and pulling his head back so that I could trail biting, sucking little kisses down his throat. The force of my movement toppled us over, and he grunted as I landed on top of him, the impact forcing him even deeper inside of me. My body remembered the rhythm he had taught it, and my movements on him were sure and strong as I sat up and grasped his shoulders for leverage.

His eyes were clenched shut, his lips slightly parted as I rode him with everything I had. Some part of my mind registered the sounds of the floorboards splintering and cracking underneath us, but most of my focus was on the ball of white-hot fire growing within me, getting ready to erupt. Just as I reached critical mass, I spoke my first words since waking up. "Look at me" I growled, and his eyes flew open to meet mine as my body began to tremble and jerk above him. Our eyes held as the flames licked through me, and it was I who finally broke contact, falling against him and sinking my teeth into his shoulder as every cell in my body suddenly exploded. I heard him cry out hoarsely as his hands tightened on me, holding my hips hard against his as he shuddered and came deep inside me.

I slowly came back to myself, a bit chastened to realize that my teeth were still imbedded in his shoulder; I withdrew them quickly. A small part of me was grimly satisfied that I might have returned even a tiny bit of the agony he had caused all the times _he_ had bitten _me_, but far greater than that was an overwhelming aversion to ever seeing him in pain—much less causing it myself. I gently licked the place I had bitten, hoping that the effect would be the same as the times he had done it to my wounds, before nuzzling my face down into his chest and breathing in his scent. I felt him rumble a bit beneath me, almost like purring, and I couldn't hold back a little giggle.

One of his hands had begun to trail idly up my spine, but at the sound of my laughing he went completely still. I did too, actually, because this was _not_ what I expected to hear. This laughter was like the tinkling of little silver bells, shimmering beautifully in the air around us before dying away. Was this what I sounded like, now? Would I recognize my voice at all? And if my voice had been changed so much in my transformation, what had happened to the rest of me? Would I be as otherworldly and stunning as he was? Would I even recognize myself?

"What's funny?" he asked, breaking into my internal musing as his hand resumed its lazy exploration of my back. Reminded of my original amusement, I couldn't help but giggle again as I propped myself up on my elbows so I could see his face. "You purred; it was cute." I said with a grin. My smile was wiped off my face an instant later, however, as the banked fire in my throat flared to life at my words. Gasping, I sat up straight as my hand flew to my neck, clawing at the skin. But…oh…that movement caused interesting things to happen where we were still connected…and the flames in my throat were no match for the feeling of him hardening inside me again. Ruthlessly I pushed the pain aside; after all, I had gotten a lot of practice at that recently. And when he sat up and moved to lift me off of him, I whimpered in denial and wrapped myself more firmly around his body.

"Love, we need to get up and get you fed. You must be so thirsty; I shouldn't have let myself get distracted before, but you took me by surprise…I wasn't expecting…you're not supposed to…_Isabella_…oh, God…" His words trailed off as his hands went from trying to push me away, to instead pulling me impossibly closer. My lips trailed across every inch of his face as my hips continued to undulate against him. This was new. We had been quick and rough, we had been slow and tender, but we had never before been so intimately connected. Our mouths meshed as our arms wrapped around each other, pulling us so tightly together that there was no room for thrusting; all we could do was rub against one another, our skin never breaking contact.

He spoke to me between long kisses; words of praise, encouragement, tender endearments. "Yes…my Isabella…so sweet…here, lift your legs-yeah, just like that…oh, fuck…how did you get so…I've never…God, you're amazing…mine…say it, Isabella…tell me who you belong to…"

I wanted to whisper his name, moan it, scream it…but that posed an interesting problem—one I wasn't equipped to deal with right at this moment in time. So I answered his demand in the only way I was able. "Yours…I'm yours…always yours, only yours…please, I…oh…oh…oh God…yes…oh God yes…I'm…I'm gonna…ah…ah…aaahhhhhh…"

The scorching wildfire in my throat was there to greet me when I came down this time; it was getting harder to ignore, and I knew that soon I would have to ask him how to douse it. But for right now, there was something more important on my mind. He resisted when I pulled away slightly, but I had no trouble breaking his hold and leaning back so that I could look straight into his eyes. I knew _what_ I wanted to ask, but was unsure of _how_ to do it. I mean, we had spent countless hours exploring each other's bodies, but very few words had been shared. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but mostly they had been soft murmurings spoken in the heat of passion; we hadn't exactly been carrying on conversations or getting to know each other. Which is what led up to this very awkward moment where I was trying to figure out how in the heck to ask him…

"Do you have a name?"

Well, I guess that's one way to do it.

Surprise came first, followed by what looked like it could be chagrin; it was hard to tell, because it only lasted for a moment before amusement curled his mouth and lit up his eyes. His smile grew into chuckles, which quickly became full-on laughter, and all I could do was stare, mesmerized. I was positive that I had never seen anything more breathtaking, either in this life or the last. I had seen him smirking, seen him menacing, seen him aroused—and all of it was amazing, but nothing could compare to this carefree boy before me now.

The laughter died away, but his mouth kept its crooked little smile and his eyes still danced as they looked back at me. "Yes, I have a name" he replied. And that was it. I quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly, and the little shit just lifted one right back at me. We stayed like that for a while, me getting more irritated in direct proportion to how large his smirk was getting. I was stubborn, I knew that about myself, and under most circumstances would have refused to be the one to break the stalemate I found myself in. But my throat was becoming more parched by the moment, and he looked like he was more than willing to sit here indefinitely if need be. So I caved.

"And what might that name be, if you don't mind my asking?" My voice was positively dripping with sarcasm, and if possible his smile grew even bigger before he answered.

"Edward Cullen; pleased to make your acquaintance."

Edward. I turned the name over in my mind, tasted it on my tongue. "Edward." I liked it. It was old-fashioned, almost aristocratic; it suited him. But he was still smirking at me, and I've seen Pretty Woman, and I couldn't help asking, "Can I call you Eddie?" I immediately wished I had kept my smart mouth shut, however, as his smile fell away and irritation took its place. "No", he answered shortly, and this time when he moved to lift me away from him I did not resist. "And for future reference, I am not _cute_, either." His voice was cold as he rose and crossed the room, disappearing through a doorway I hadn't noticed before.

I was torn; part of me wanted to cry at the way I had so stupidly ruined such a beautiful moment. The rest of me was trying to pick my jaw up off the floor, because _damn_, the view of his naked body from behind was absolutely magnificent. I felt my body responding to the visual, and yep, it was official—Bella Swan was a sex addict.

And with that thought the world came screeching to a halt.

Bella Swan. That was my name. Bella, not Isabella; I hated the name Isabella. Everyone who knew me was aware of that, although I had a suspicion that Charlie called me Isabella behind my back; when I moved back to Forks a couple of months ago, everybody in town seemed to know me by that name. I spent weeks correcting people.

Charlie. My dad. He was a…police officer? Yes, that was it. Chief Swan. He had been so happy when I decided to come live with him until I finished high school, although if you didn't know him it would be hard to tell. He wasn't one to be demonstrative or talk about his feelings, but he had his own ways of showing how much he cared. Things like getting up at God only knew what hour of the morning to put chains on my truck because it had snowed the night before. I had never driven in the snow before; it didn't snow where I used to live. It was hot all the time, sunny…Arizona. Phoenix. I lived there with my mom. Renee. But not anymore. Why not? Because…she got married. To Bill? No, not Bill. Phil. That was it. Renee married Phil, who played some kind of sport. Baseball? Yes. Phil played baseball, so he moved around a lot, and I moved in with Charlie so that Renee could travel with him. I missed my mom, but living with Charlie wasn't so bad—I was used to it, anyway, since I had spent every summer of my life in Forks with him. We understood each other.

Charlie and Renee must be going insane right now! How long had I been missing? Were they looking for me, or did they think that I was dead? I had to call them, let them know that I was okay—

But could I? I sounded so different from how I used to; my voice was almost musical now. Would they even believe it was I without seeing me? And even if they did see me, would I be recognizable? I didn't even know what I looked like anymore, although I could take a guess at some things. I would be cold, hard, and pale (although I had already been pale to begin with, so that might not be so different). I would have dark shadows under my eyes, as if I was suffering from a sleepless night. But most of all…most of all, my eyes would be red. I was the living undead, and my crimson orbs would bear witness to the fact that I was now a monster—the stuff of myths and nightmares.

I couldn't go home. I no longer had a home, a family, a life. He—Edward—was all I had now, and I was already annoying him. One little comment, and he had flipped a switch—from smiling and playful, to cold and angry. I was going to have to be more careful from now on; I would need to watch my words and actions, do my best to keep him happy. Not only because I craved his smile, his laugh—although after only experiencing it that one time, I was already desperate to see it again—but also because I needed to ensure he didn't decide that I was more trouble than I was worth. If he changed his mind about keeping me, if he sent me away… No, it couldn't be allowed to happen.

I was broken from my reverie when he…when Edward walked back into the room only a few seconds after leaving it, still gloriously nude and carrying a wet washcloth. I stared at the floor and chewed on my lower lip as he crossed the room, too nervous to look at his face and see if he was still angry with me. The washcloth appeared in my line of vision, and my hand automatically reached out to take it from him as I finally chanced a quick glance up to gauge his expression. The good news was that he didn't look upset anymore; in fact, he didn't look _anything_. His face was smooth and unreadable, giving nothing away as he told me to clean up and get dressed, before turning and exiting through yet another door. I took a brief moment to wonder just how many damn doors this room had as I quickly wiped myself off, and then looked around me for something suitable to wear.

The scraps of material that littered the buckled and broken floor weren't going to do me any good, and I didn't see any dressers where new clothes might be hiding. I was just about to call out to Edward, asking how I was supposed to get dressed with no clothing, when he came back through the doorway and tossed something on the bed next to me. A frown tugged at my mouth when I saw that he was fully clothed, but I shook off my disappointment and reached for the pile of material, picking up a t-shirt and starting to pull it on. I say starting to, because it came apart in my hands before I could even finish dragging it over my head. I must have looked pretty comical standing there with my arms in the air; the mangled remains of the shirt hanging off of me, and most times I probably would have been the first to laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. At the moment, though, it just seemed to be the final straw. It was all suddenly too much, and in a complete and total overreaction I found myself sinking to my knees, arms crossed behind my head as I pressed my face to the floor and sobbed tearlessly. I didn't know what was wrong with me; my emotions were all over the place, I felt strange and alien in my own body, and the arid dryness in my throat was becoming intolerable.

Suddenly strong hands were pulling me up, powerful arms wrapping around me and holding me tight against his tall frame. "Shhhh", Edward whispered as his palm stroked against my hair, pressing my face to his chest. "Hey, hey—it's okay. You're just stronger than you realize, Love. It's all right; you'll learn to control it soon enough. It was just a shirt, nothing to cry over. I'll help you, all right?" His voice was soft and soothing as he held me close, so different from the cold detachment he had shown just a minute or so prior. I quickly calmed under his soft touch, and nodded my head silently as he gently pushed me down so that I was sitting on the bed. Reaching for the remaining item on the bed, he knelt in front of me and slowly pulled a pair of jeans over my feet and up my legs. He tugged at my hips in a silent request for me to stand up, and I placed my hands on his shoulders for balance as he pulled the jeans over my hips and fastened them—unnecessary, but I would use any excuse I could find to put my hands on him.

For a moment he looked like he was about to press a kiss to my bare stomach, but instead he rose to his feet and, taking my hand in his, led me through the last doorway he had exited. He stopped just inside, and I found myself in a large walk-in closet as he opened a drawer and pulled out another shirt. "Lift your arms up," he said, turning to me, and when I obeyed he slowly dragged the soft cotton down my upraised arms, trailing his fingers along the bare skin as he did. Slowly he smoothed the material over my ribs, fingers tightening minutely at my waist before falling away as he stepped back.

I flicked my eyes down to my chest before looking back at him and cocking my head to one side. "No underwear?" I enquired in a low voice, and his eyes darkened as they swept down my front slowly before coming back up to meet mine. "No."

Oh, how quickly excitement took over my body—bringing every nerve ending to life with tingling awareness of just how close he was, how the air between us pulsed like a living entity, how very much I _wanted_ him.

I took a step closer, raising my hands to touch; but he countered with a quick step backwards, lifting his own hands to grasp mine before they could make contact. "Later" he said firmly, and I shook my head. "Now" I answered as I took yet another step toward him. His eyes flashed at me, and this time I stopped in my tracks—because although I could still see the lust in them, I could also plainly see the anger that flared as well.

"You are testing my patience, Isabella", he growled as he backed me up against the wall and pinned my hands beside my shoulders. "I have been willing to put up with a certain amount of attitude from you, because in truth I rather enjoy your outspokenness, your fierceness. But I will not tolerate outright disobedience. You need to trust me to take care of you, trust that I know what's best. Do you think that I don't _want_ to take you right here, right now? That I don't positively _ache_ to be inside you again?" He pushed his pulsing erection against my stomach, illustrating his point in a most direct way. His brought his head down next to mine, his lips brushing against my ear as he pressed his body up against me. "Oh, I want you, sweet Isabella. Never doubt that. And I will have you. Soon." He gave one last grind against me before stepping away, our only contact where his hands still held onto mine. "But right now, you NEED to drink. You must be unbearably thirsty, and I refuse to let you suffer just because you don't have control of your impulses yet."

I hung my head, shamed at my inability to get a handle on myself. Hadn't it only been a few minutes previous that I had vowed to behave myself, to be good for him? How quickly I had forgotten and allowed my own headstrong nature to take control! I would have to try harder, work at keeping a tighter rein on my wildly swinging moods, _control my impulses_.

Edward was leading me from the room now, grip firm around my wrist as he pulled me behind him down the stairs and out the front door, into the surrounding woods. A little ways in he stopped and turned to face me, releasing my wrist as he framed my face with his hands, tilting it up towards him. An indulgent smile tugged his lips up, and I could feel my own lips curve in an answering grin. Really, is own moods seemed to be as mercurial as mine were, ranging from playful to domineering to sweet in the space of a minute or two. I couldn't keep up.

"I brought you a present, love. Would you like to have it now?" Eagerly I nodded my head; if he was giving me gifts, then he must be happy with me, right? He certainly looked happy at the moment, and I basked in the glow that seemed to radiate outwards from his smile, suffusing me in warmth. "Good. It took me a bit of time to gather it all together; that was one of the reasons I was gone for so long before. I wanted everything to be ready for you when you woke up, and as it turns out I just barely made it back in time. You finished more quickly than I had anticipated."

As he spoke he was leading me further into the trees, walking backward as he continued to cradle my face in his hands, stroking my hair back from my temples with his long fingers. I kept my eyes on his, trusting him to lead me. He was happy with me; he cared for me—I could see it in his eyes, in the soft curve of his lips—and he would take care of me. He would be here to help me navigate my way through this new life, and he wouldn't let me fall.

Suddenly the wind shifted, blowing across my face and bringing with it a scent so powerful, so mouthwatering, that the burn in my throat flared to painful, raging life once again. I gasped, and Edward's hands dropped to my neck to stroke it soothingly. "Do you smell that, love?" he asked, and I nodded frantically, afraid to try and talk through the arid wasteland of my desiccated mouth. His hands released me and he took a step to the side. "Go, then. It's all yours; go and get it." And after taking half an instant to discern which direction the wind was blowing from, I took off through the trees in search of the most delectable odor I had ever encountered.

My focus was completely fixated on tracking down that maddening, delicious smell, but part of my brain—probably the part that used to regulate automatic functions like breathing and blinking—was taking in everything around me and committing it to clear, flawless memory. It was noticing the unbelievable speed with which I wove through the close-packed trees, so fast that everything should have been reduced to a streaky green blur as I sped along. But instead I could clearly make out each leaf, every insect that crawled along the tree trunks or burrowed its way into the ground as I sped by; I could hear every bird that grew silent at my approach, only to resume its song after I was past.

The scent grew stronger as the seconds passed, and within less than a minute I was breaking through into a small clearing where it seemed to emanate from. I fell immediately upon the body nearest to me, my teeth ripping into the tender throat as my fingers punched through skin and muscle, pulling it close against me as I drank greedily. The hot salty liquid poured down my throat, soothing the tearing, aching thirst as I drank in a mindless frenzy. All too soon the rush slowed to a trickle; I screamed in frustration as I dug deeper, tearing and rending in my eagerness to find more. Disgusted, I dropped the pieces at my feet and looked up, honing in immediately on a second heartbeat and lunging toward it.

The clearing was filled with screams now, terrified shrieks that delighted the crazed fiend I had become. The smell of blood permeated the air, and for a moment I was taken back to a dim alleyway where I huddled on the ground as a massacre went on around me. But this time the salt and rust smell didn't make me sick; no, this time it worked me into a frenzy as I flew from one thrashing body to another, drinking and gorging on the thick, delicious nectar that flowed freely. Whenever it would begin to slow I descended into a manic fury, ripping and shredding in my search for more, more, more, before moving on to the next warm body.

Then there was silence.

I stood in the middle of the clearing, the green grass surrounding me painted with bright splashes of crimson and littered with mutilated corpses and assorted body parts. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the grotesque tableau laid out before me, until my eyes fell on a figure standing at the tree line. Edward was leaning indolently against a large fir tree, hands pushed into the front pockets of his pants as he watched me. The remnants of his indulgent grin still played along his lips, and his eyes were fondly amused as they took in my macabre appearance.

Still moving slowly, I turned around and once again surveyed the scene in front of me, as if it somehow might have changed in the 3 seconds that I had been looking away from it. As if I didn't just murder and dismember 4 living breathing human beings. As if it weren't my hands and arms that were streaked with gore, not my fingernails that had bits of skin and flesh clinging underneath them, not my shirt that was soaked through and sticky with blood. I didn't rip that head clean off its shoulders and toss it to the side, didn't bury my face in the bloody stump of neck desperately trying to suck up every last precious drop.

No.

No.

No. No. No. No. No. Nononononononono.

I heard the first screams, but it wasn't until the third ripped through my chest that I realized they were coming from me. I was aware of Edward next to me, all amusement wiped from his face as he tried to hold me, touch me, turn my face to his and ask what was wrong. But I couldn't look at him, I couldn't turn away from the horror I had wrought.

I had been so happy that he had wanted to keep me for his own, that he had made me like him so that we could be together as equals. I had been so stupid, so blind. Now I wished that he had just killed me, drained every last drop of my blood and never given me another thought. Or that he had left me to the men in Port Angeles. I wished that I actually _had_ been in hell when I was lying there burning on his bed; I would gladly spend an eternity in that ocean of suffering if it meant that I would never have to wake up to _this_. Had I thought that was pain? Had I honestly believed that there could be nothing worse?

I wanted to close my eyes, to cover them with my gory hands and block out the sight of what I had done; but I couldn't. I did this. I was a murderer, a monster, a demon of hell, and spawn of the devil. And I had no choice but to face what I had done. What I was.

The screams went on and on.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much to the ladies of Sparkling Citrus, who wrote a very flattering review of this dark little fic on their blog—as well as featuring it in their list of top ten favorite lemons (Number 2! Whoo-hoo!). Also, big thanks to Necessarily, who brought their rec to my attention. I absolutely never imagined that any story of mine would EVER be getting things like recommendations or be pimped out by bloggers, so this has been SO EXCITING! Thank you!

Also, a huge thank you to everybody who has reviewed, alerted, and/or favorited this story. It makes my day every time I get one of those little email notices, and keeps me going whenever writers block rears its ugly head. If it weren't for you, I would have never even gotten the second chapter finished, much less be posting number three. So thank you, I owe you all big time!

There are a few lines taken directly from _Twilight_, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.

**WARNING: DARK SEXUAL THEMES, VIOLENCE, GORE**

* * *

I learned several new things about vampires in the days following the bloodbath in the meadow.

For one, apparently we don't sleep. At all. Ever.

For another, we have crystal-clear photographic memories.

This seemed like an especially cruel joke, considering how cloudy and indistinct my memories of being human were. The things I actually wanted to remember had to be pulled slowly and torturously from the muck, inch by inch, one at a time. The things that I wanted nothing more than to forget were forever emblazoned in my thoughts with absolute clarity.

We are also capable of being perfectly still for indefinite periods of time.

I learned all of this as I stood motionless at the window of the ruined bedroom that I had woken up in, my brain going a thousand miles a minute as I barely saw the world outside. Over and over I replayed each second of my new existence, analyzing my thoughts and actions as I tried to make sense of where it had all gone so drastically wrong.

The first time the sun went down, I thought nothing of it; in truth, it barely registered on my consciousness. I didn't need the sun to see; even in the blackness of night I could clearly discern every blade of grass, every leaf on every tree, the movement of each night creature that ventured near the house. When the stars faded and sunrise began to tinge the inky sky with gold and carmine highlights, I vaguely wondered at the fact that I had stood there all night and wasn't tired in the least.

When the sun set for the second time and I still did not feel the need for rest, I finally understood that sleep was an escape that would forever more be denied me.

Of course it would. There was, after all, no rest for the wicked.

"Enough is enough. It's time for this to stop."

Ah, yes. Edward. Apparently, I was testing his patience again.

I had mixed feelings about this, which really wasn't surprising considering I had mixed feelings about almost everything right now.

I was torn between my almost instinctive need to obey his every wish, and my burgeoning anger at him for so selfishly committing me to this existence. Discounting my dying plea to Edward that he not forget about me (which as it turns out was completely unnecessary), I had asked one thing of him—one thing!—to give me a choice. And in the end he couldn't even do that. He took away my choices, damned me to an existence of mindless bloodlust without my consent. All because he decided that he couldn't let me go?

Well, what if I didn't want this? As much as I craved his touch, his voice, the mind-numbing pleasure that I found in his arms, what if the price was too high to pay?

But then again, if he had given me the option—if he had explained to me exactly what being with him would entail—would I have actually turned him down? Before the meadow, would I have had any inkling of the absolute horror I would feel when faced with the realities of living this existence? Or would I have remembered the unadulterated delight I found with him, and resolved that I would do anything, face any consequences, if I could only keep him with me a while longer?

My anger never gained full life, because in the end it didn't really matter, did it? I was here, whether I would have chosen to be or not. What's done is done. The real question was, could I continue this almost-life now that I had been given a taste of both the towering heights and the agonizing depths to which it could deliver me?

I had been wrestling with this for days now, and was no closer to an answer than when I started. But I could hear by the tone of his voice that Edward's tolerance was wearing thin, and my time for finding answers may have just run out.

* * *

Edward's initial reaction to my screams had been concern. He had tried to hold me, comfort me, to ask me what was wrong. When I wouldn't respond to him, when I couldn't tear my attention away from the butchered remains scattered about like so much debris, he had stepped in front of me to block my view. He had tried to pull my face into his chest as he spouted meaningless platitudes about it being "all right" and "perfectly natural".

That was when I found out that I was stronger than he. I shoved against his shoulders with all my might—not actually expecting it to do any good—and the sight of him flying halfway across the meadow was what finally shocked me into silence.

We stared at each from across the expanse of bloodied greenery for several seconds; both of us stunned at my action, before Edward finally began to move. I expected anger. I expected fury. I expected, at the very least, something similar to the closet scene earlier. I had just used physical force against him, and surely that had to be a worse transgression than mouthing off.

What I didn't expect was for him to walk over and calmly begin picking up…pieces.

I stood, paralyzed, as with quiet deliberation Edward gathered up everything and piled it in the middle of the circle of red. When that was finished, he quickly began digging up the grass around the pile until there was nothing but bare earth in about a 20-foot ring around it. Speeding back over to the tree line, he returned with a red plastic jug and proceeded to pour its contents over the mound he had created, emptying it completely before tossing it onto the top.

I had the absurd urge to ask if he had been a Boy Scout in his previous life.

I didn't see what he did next, but suddenly the small hill burst into flames, and I instinctively took several large steps back.

Back at my side again, he watched with me as the evidence of my rampage slowly burned down until there was nothing left but a smoldering, blackened circle in the middle of the clearing, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

Smoke wove its way up through the air, and I found I could see every speck, every mote, each bit of ash as it swirled and eddied in the light breeze. The pale late-afternoon light filtered through the ever-present cloud cover, refracting off the spinning particles and creating flashes of brilliant rainbow colors across the sky.

It was absolutely breathtaking, and I marveled at the fact that such beauty could be born from the wanton destruction that had been perpetrated here. If one were feeling especially profound, they might even imagine that the souls of the dead were making their way up to heaven; following the light as they shed their earthly shackles and let themselves be guided to whatever lay beyond this world.

I wasn't.

I didn't resist this time when Edward pulled me away, and followed him silently back to the house. I was still slightly disoriented by the way I wove through the trees and brush so gracefully, part of my brain expecting me to trip and stumble along as I trailed behind him like a lost puppy. I could remember that I used to do that a lot, once upon a time and in a land not so far away.

That thought brought forth a slew of half-formed images that swirled around in my mind, faded photographs of a life dead and gone. I let them come. Turning my thoughts away from my present, I delved into the deep recesses of my mind, digging through partially obscured images as I tried to piece together the person that I could almost remember being.

As distractions went, it would have been more effective if my brain hadn't become a veritable supercomputer, capable of processing an infinite number of problems and variables at once. But it was better than nothing.

The mood of our return trip was vastly different from the hope and anticipation with which our outing had begun.

* * *

"I realize that I should have explained some things before thrusting you into a situation like that. But damn it, you need to understand that I am working at a disadvantage here! I'm not accustomed to having to try and guess how somebody is going to react. And you never seem to do what I expect you to; I can't read you at all, and it makes things very difficult."

That sound right there…yes, that would be him dragging his hand through his hair. Cue the sigh…oh, that was a loud one; he was most definitely irritated now. Wait for it…wait for it…in three…two…one…

"For fuck's sake, Isabella, I have had enough of this! It's been three days, and you haven't moved from that spot, you haven't spoken a word; you won't even look at me! My patience is at an end. Stop this childishness right now, and look at me when I am talking to you!"

* * *

Upon reentering the house 3 days ago, I had immediately retreated to the one place that felt familiar and comfortable, and hadn't moved since except to shower the blood and gore off of my body.

I had successfully avoided looking at my reflection in the mirror above the sink as I passed in and out of the lavatory, not able yet to deal with the reality of what I knew I would see. I was positive that the red-eyed woman in the mirror would be breathtakingly beautiful, a veritable goddess most likely. I was equally positive that she was nobody that I wanted to be, or to even know.

Her beauty would be a great and terrible thing, deadly and cunning in its ability to captivate and ensnare her prey. Her violently scarlet eyes would give testament to the depthless evil residing in her blackened and suppurating soul.

Seeing is believing, and I didn't think my fragile sanity could stand having that particular reality forced on it just yet. So I kept my eyes firmly averted as I passed by.

I had exited the bathroom to find a robe lying across the bed, and as I carefully slipped it on was silently grateful that I would not be required to attempt dressing again.

For the most part, Edward had given me space—staying in or around the house, but obeying my unspoken wish to be left alone. I say for the most part, because once or twice a day he would enter the bedroom and try in vain to get me to talk to him. Or listen to him. Or give him any sign at all that I was even aware of his presence.

Each time he left noticeably more frustrated than the time before, and I knew that there would soon come a point when I would no longer be able to avoid him. A confrontation was inevitable, and at this point I was just stalling for as much time as possible while I desperately tried to find a way to reconcile all the conflicting parts of myself.

* * *

This was it. I had hoped for more time, but obviously I had pushed Edward's patience as far as I could. I needed to give him something, even if I wasn't ready to. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning my head slightly to the side. I couldn't turn around and face him, couldn't allow my eyes the temptation to open and gaze upon him. But I could do this little bit to acknowledge his presence.

"I can't."

"You can't what?"

"I can't look at you."

"Why not?"

"Because when I look at you, I can't think; it's like I lose my mind. I forget everything else, and nothing matters but touching you, and having you touch me. You…you dazzle me, and everything ceases to exist but the two of us, and this room, and this bed, and I…I just…I can't deal with that right now."

God, I hadn't meant to say all that. But it was like just the sound of his voice, his mere presence close to me, short-circuited the wiring between my brain and my mouth. How had I forgotten that? Even when I was blindfolded and had yet to lay eyes on him—when I was still positive that my death at his hands was imminent—I had been helpless against his wants, his demands. And now…now he was moving closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch. No, this was NOT good at all.

"Why do you make that sound like a bad thing? Why would you rather stand here and torture yourself, when I can make it all go away?"

His voice was low, seductive, and taking one last step he lowered his face to my neck, lips just a breath away from my skin. I could feel him there, his entire body just inches from mine, and a shiver made its way through me as everything else in the world slipped away. There was only him, only me, only this insane attraction that defied all logic and reason as it hummed and vibrated in the heavy air between and around us.

I didn't need oxygen any longer, but my breath still quickened as his lips closed the final inch of space between us and pressed softly against the side of my neck. A strangled sound escaped me as hands slipped around my waist, pulling me so that my back was flush against his chest as his lips traveled down my neck. One hand slipped inside the robe and eased upward to cup my breast as he used his chin to push aside the collar so he could gently bite the curve at the joint of my shoulder.

And just like that, I was back in the meadow—my teeth effortlessly ripping through tender flesh, severing the jugular of the human writhing in my grasp, gulping down the lifeblood that spurted forth like a geyser.

I tore myself from Edward's grasp with a cry, crashing into and destroying the remaining nightstand in my haste to get away from him. Turning to the wall, I pressed my forehead into it as my hands tugged at my hair, a desolate wail escaping me.

I had my answer.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't live with the memories of the screaming, of the blood, knowing that in order to survive I would have to do it again. And again. And again. It was more than I could bear, and I just couldn't do it. Not even for him.

Edward was behind me once again, pulling my hands from my hair and turning me to face him. Tipping my head up so that I finally had to look at him, holding me captive with his stare.

"Talk to me, Isabella. I don't know what to do; I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong. _Please_."

"You can't" I choked out. "You can't help me. You can't make the memories go away. You can't bring back those people. You can't put me back the way I was before. You can't make the screaming go away!" And now I was the one screaming, sobbing, and beating at his chest with my fists as I tried to block out the sound of their shrieks, the smell of their blood, the knowledge of the soulless monster I had become.

Wasn't this how it had all begun? With screaming, and blood? An alleyway instead of a meadow, would-be attackers instead of random victims, but wasn't the end result the same? Death. The body count was already up to eight; how many more people would have to die so that I could continue existing? What was my life worth when measured against the destruction that maintained it?

"Stop it! Enough, Isabella! Calm down and listen to me!" Unable to get a grip on my fists to stop my assault, Edward had instead grabbed hold of my shoulders and now gave them a hard shake. "Is that what all this nonsense is about? You grieve for _them_?" He spat the last word out, his beautiful face contorted with distaste.

"And why shouldn't I-because they're only humans? Only food? Well, in case you've forgotten, I was "only human" myself just a short time ago! You seemed to think that I was worth more than just being food! What makes me so special? What makes me any different than those people I ripped to shreds? Who are you—who am I—to decide who gets to live and who dies?"

He snarled at me, anger sharpening his features into an even more terrifying beauty as his grip on me tightened. "What makes you different? I'll tell you. The one whose head you ripped off, do you remember him? Do you know what he was doing two weeks ago, while you were going to school, spending time with your friends, and being a typical teenage girl?

"He was taking the batteries out of the smoke detectors in his parents' house. He waited until late at night, when they were sound asleep, and then he started a fire in the kitchen using one of the stove burners and a dishtowel. He burned their house down to the ground, with them in it.

"He murdered his own parents—in cold blood—for the insurance money, and felt not one shred of remorse for it. And here you stand, tormenting yourself over what you did on instinct—what you had to do in order to survive—and you ask what makes you any different from him?

"Do you want to hear about the rest of them? Do you want to know about the child abuse, and the rapes, and the murders? Do you want to hear what those men in Port Angeles had planned for you?"

His fingers were digging into my shoulders, but I felt no pain. I was as still as death, although inside I felt as though I was shaking apart. Edward's hands gave me one last small shake before easing up, his steel grip becoming looser, less punishing. My eyes were fixated on his, trying to find the lies. They had to be lies, he couldn't possibly know these things! But his angel's face, his devil's eyes, every tightly wound muscle of his body, they all screamed truth. And after everything I had been through in the past days, I knew by now that there was no such thing as impossible; there was only the unknown.

"How?" I asked him, and was struck with a sense of deja vu. He had once asked me that same question, when he was faced with the fact that I had knowledge of things I should have never, ever, known. And just as I had understood exactly what he was asking me then, so was he perfectly aware of what I was asking now.

Releasing his hold on me completely, Edward took a step back before turning away—walking over to the window and assuming the position I had held for these past three days. For several minutes the silence was broken only by the sound of our breaths, and I was about to open my mouth and repeat my question when he abruptly began speaking.

"Some of us—not many, but some—have certain gifts, above and beyond the norm for our kind. From the time I was first…born…created, whatever you want to call it, into this life, I have been able to hear the thoughts of everyone around me."

He turned to face me now, crimson eyes boring intensely into my matching ones.

"I use that gift. I search out the truly evil, the ones who shouldn't be allowed to live, and I feed on them. And so did you. Those people whom you suffer so much over? They don't deserve your guilt. They aren't worth one moment of your pain."

He shook his head, closing his eyes and raking his fingers through his disheveled hair before his intense stare once again captured mine. His movements were slow and sinuous as a jungle cat as he once again approached me, stopping when only a foot of space separated us.

Unbidden, warmth flowed through me—from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes—at the proximity of his body to mine, and I felt my frayed nerves clamoring with the need to close the distance between us, to reach out and feel the silk of his skin under my fingertips. But now was not the time, and with the crumbling remains of my self-control I managed to keep my feet planted firmly on the floor, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. I was finally getting some answers, and that took precedence over whatever hormonal urges my silly teenage vampire body kept throwing out.

"I know…I realize now that I should have told you all this sooner, but I honestly didn't think it was necessary. Most newborns are so consumed with thirst for the first year or so that they don't notice or care about much else.

"It never occurred to me that you would be so controlled, so self-aware. I thought that I would have to wait until you were older to explain how I chose our meals, that I would have to convince you to even care one way or the other. I hoped you would grow a conscience eventually; I never imagined that you would be born with one. Although, really, I should have known better, shouldn't I? You have been, from the very beginning, utterly unique. Nothing about you is typical, so why should this be any different?"

I felt like a dingy that had been cut loose in the middle of a raging storm; tossed back and forth by the capricious ocean currents as waves buffeted and spun me round and round. Nothing made sense. Even if I could believe what Edward was telling me—and really I had no choice but to believe him—I still couldn't put all the pieces of information together in a way that created a recognizable picture. Some pieces just refused to fit, no matter which way I turned them. Yes, I was getting answers, but all they seemed to do was lead to even more questions.

"I don't understand. If you can hear thoughts, then why are you always asking me what I'm thinking? And how did I end up here? I never did anything to hurt anybody! What about me was so evil that I deserved to be your next meal?"

He didn't want to answer me, I could tell that. He sighed and looked away, seeming to gather himself together, before returning his gaze to mine.

"I can't hear your thoughts. I don't know why, as it's never happened with anyone before, but you're completely silent to me. And that is part of the explanation for why I…did what I did with you. As I said before, you are utterly unique. Your silence, your smell—I have never come across anybody who called to me as you did, and I was helpless against the pull."

That's it? He couldn't read my mind, and I smelled good? That was all it took to overcome his whole 'I only eat evil people' code? Anger flared, and I did my best to tamp it down before I did or said something that might get me in trouble. Now that I was finally getting some explanations, it wouldn't be wise to do something that might trigger one of Edward's lightning-fast mood changes and end the whole thing prematurely. With some effort, I was able to push the anger away—even if I couldn't completely let it go.

"Why do you think it is, that you can't hear me? Is there something wrong with the way my brain works, or something?"

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "See, this is what I mean. I tell you that I hear voices in my head, and you think there's something wrong with _you_. How utterly absurd." His voice was full of exasperated affection, and I felt my willpower seeping away as I longed to take the single step needed to bring me up against him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist, rest my head on his chest, and lose myself in the electric current that was present whenever we touched.

But I reminded myself again that now wasn't the time; instead of moving forward, I stepped back and sat down on the bed, looking up at him as I continued fishing for information.

"So, other than me, you only eat bad guys? What, so you, like, wander around taking out criminals like some kind of vampire vigilante?" He snorted in reluctant amusement, and the corner of my mouth couldn't help but curl up in an almost-smile as I continued. "Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a runaway locomotive, able to prevent crimes before they occur…is this a full-time job, or only when you get hungry? And what am I supposed to be, like, your sidekick or something?"

But Edward was no longer amused, his gaze severe as it pinned me to the bed I sat on. "Make no mistake, Isabella; I am no superhero, making the world a safer place for humanity. I am most definitely the villain in this little scenario, the only difference being that I prey on other villains instead of innocents. But as I think I proved when I took you, I have the capability of being just as monstrous as the people I hunt."

I shivered internally, unwillingly remembering the utter terror I had felt upon waking up naked, bound and blindfolded in a strange bed. How close I had been to death, so many times during the night. Yet here I was, and suddenly I had the overpowering need to know _why_.

Why was I not dead? I hadn't really thought about it before, consumed first with the joy of knowing that my demon/angel had wanted to keep me, and then with the horror of what I had become. The question of why hadn't seemed important until this moment, but now it wouldn't leave my mind.

"There's something else I still don't understand. I get why you kidnapped me; I just smelled too good to resist, or so you say. But what about everything else? After that first…after you…drank…bit my leg…" Out of air now, I stopped and pulled in a shuddering breath. "You hardly drank any of my blood at all after that, but you stayed with me all night. I don't know how many times we…my blood hardly seemed to be your primary interest. And then, when I was dying, instead of drinking the rest, you…I just don't understand why, since you found my blood so irresistible…how you stopped."

When the silence had dragged on for several seconds, I looked up to find Edward's face smooth and expressionless, much as it had been three days ago when he told me to get cleaned and dressed. That time I had offended him with a smart-ass comment; was he angry with me again? But why would he be?

When I had just about given up on receiving an answer, his smooth voice—as cool and devoid of emotion as his alabaster face—began to talk.

"You seem to forget, I had already had quite a large meal. That made it easier to control myself, to take my time and savor my dessert. Blood like yours is a very rare treat, and I had no intention of rushing the experience. And if I wanted to play a bit, well why shouldn't I? Fear sharpens the scent, the flavor, and makes the whole experience so much more enjoyable. As delectable as you smelled to begin with, you were absolutely mouthwatering when you lay there shuddering and crying out in terror.

"There you were, laid out before me—helpless, terrified, and so blissfully silent—your sweet little body trembling in fear. But fear wasn't all you felt, was it my little lamb? I could smell your arousal, your excitement. You were so warm and responsive under my touch, your frail little heart beating right out of your chest. And I wondered—what would it be like to sink my teeth into your neck while I was buried inside your heat? To empty myself inside you at the same time that I took your life?

"For the first time, I found myself wanting another kind of pleasure besides that of satisfying my thirst. And you were certainly willing enough, practically begging me to take you. Such a sweet, wanton little thing you were, with your "please", and your "more". So utterly enchanting as you gave yourself to me, writhing and pleading; my own little virgin whore."

No longer cool, his musical voice had roughened, deepened, scraping across my nerve endings and sending sparks singing across my skin. Neither of us had moved so much as an inch, but it was as if a rubber band was stretched between us, inexorably pulling us toward each other until soon there would be no resisting. But the shock of his final words cleared enough of the fuzz from my brain for me to realize that he hadn't actually answered my question.

For the briefest of instants, I considered just letting it go. I didn't want to talk anymore, and from the looks of it neither did Edward. What I wanted was to reenact the scene he had just described in such erotic detail, drown myself in him and never worry about coming up for air. Didn't need it, anyway. But…

It wasn't in my nature to just let things go, and I couldn't help but wonder why he had evaded the question. Did he really think that I wouldn't notice, that I could be so easily misdirected? And why bother at all? It wasn't a difficult one, surely, considering all the others he had answered without issue?

So, pushing aside both my simmering ire at his callous words and my carnal desires for the moment, I made a point of arching my eyebrow and frowning at him. "You didn't answer my question. Why am I here? Why aren't I a pile of ashes somewhere?"

Anger, frustration, confusion—all those and more flickered across Edward's face in the fraction of a second before it was once again wiped smooth.

"I would have thought that was rather obvious. You are, after all, extremely lovely, Isabella. And as I just mentioned, I quite enjoy your tempting little body. It was worth forsaking the small amount of blood you had left in order to be able to have you whenever I wanted. When I included your peculiar mental silence into the equation, it really was an easy decision to make. To have such a delightfully eager consort available to me whenever I may wish, without having to put up with knowing every trivial and banal little thought that crosses her mind? Although, things in that area haven't gone exactly as planned.

"At first I thought I would appreciate being around somebody whose thoughts weren't constantly invading my mind, but I find myself more and more aggravated by it as time goes by. Especially since you seem to constantly confound my expectations, acting in ways I could never predict or expect. It's very frustrating." His lips pulled up into a smirk. "But, I'm certain I can come up with something you can do to make it up to me."

Bastard.

_Fucking Bastard_.

My hand came down hard on the side of Edward's face with a sound like boulders crashing together, and I had the satisfaction of seeing him stumble backward several feet. I was momentarily preoccupied with the speed at which my body had moved; the thought entered my mind, and then I was on my feet and my hand was on his face, with no fragment of time in which the action occurred.

That moment of preoccupation was all he needed, as the next thing I knew I was bent facedown across the bed with my arms twisted behind my back and being pulled painfully upward.

"You will never—_never_—do that again, do you understand me?" He emphasized his words with a sharp upward tug on my arms, wringing a small whimper of pain from me. "You may be strong right now, but I'm still faster. And don't forget that I have been around far longer than you. If you raise your hand to me again, I swear to you that it will be the last thing you ever do."

I should have been afraid. I knew that, I really did. But I never reacted the way that I should when it came to Edward, and there was no room for fear between the anger and arousal that raged through me right then. He had been deliberately pushing my buttons, alternating between seduction and provocation, ever since I started asking questions that for some reason he didn't want to answer. He pushed and pulled, and it was only a matter of time before I snapped one way or another. Or both.

I still hadn't mastered the confusing vortex that my emotions seemed to have become. I wanted to rip his head off; I wanted to attack his mouth with mine. I wanted to sink my teeth into him; I wanted to…well, sink my teeth into him. I wanted to rend, tear, destroy; I wanted to wrap myself around him and never let go. I growled as I struggled against his hold, honestly not sure which desire would be at the forefront if I did manage to get loose.

Edward cursed quietly as he tightened his hold on my arms, bringing one knee up so that he was half kneeling on the bed and wedging his other leg in between mine. He was only trying to get a more secure grip, but the feel of even a part of him between my legs had the scales tipping in favor of arousal—although rage was still a close second.

"Stubborn little hellcat, you really don't know when to quit, do you?"

Amusement and irritation tinged his words, and my anger surged anew at the thought of him _laughing_ at my attempts to free myself. As if I was no more dangerous than a spitting little kitten, incapable of inflicting any real harm. Oh, I'd show him ferocious! If I could just manage to free my arms, he wouldn't know what—

His hips pressed into my backside as he adjusted his grip again, bending farther over me, and I froze as his thigh pushed up between mine. Oh, God, yes—right there. A small moan found its way past my clenched teeth, and now it was Edward's turn to freeze. No, no, don't stop moving!

I didn't have control over my own body anymore; a whimper escaping without my consent, my back arching as much as Edward's weight pressing down on it would allow as my pelvis tried to seek closer contact with his. He gave an experimental little roll of his hips against me, and my whimper became a needy cry as I involuntarily pushed back against him.

"Oh, fuck" he muttered as he bent even farther over me, pressing his forehead against my shoulder as he pulled in a shuddering breath. I struggled underneath him still, but now it was in an attempt to wriggle closer instead of to get away. My movements, as well as the way he was arched over me now, caused my ass to press and writhe against him, bringing forth a tortured groan as he flexed his hips into me again.

"Little temptress, you know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" His lips were so close that his words broke upon my ear in small puffs of air, sending shivers through my already vibrating body.

With one fluid movement he brought his knee back down from the bed, sliding it in between my thighs and using it to press them farther open. "Is this what you want?" No longer smooth, his honey voice was low and guttural as he pushed himself up between my legs, his hands still holding mine fast behind me. The question must have been rhetorical, as he didn't wait for an answer before continuing.

"Do you like knowing how easily you can make me want you? Does it make you feel powerful? Or are you just as helpless against this as I am?" His hips were rhythmically pushing against mine as he spoke, and my whimpers and gasps only seemed to spur him to move harder, faster against me.

"But you enjoy being helpless, don't you kitten? Here I am, holding you down, being rough with you, and you love it, don't you? Let's see how much…"

Switching his grip so that both my wrists were now being held by one hand, he reached the other down between us and pushed the hem of the robe up until it was pooled around my waist. He smoothed his hand over my ass and down the back of one leg, before sliding his way back up my inner thigh until he reached the apex. We both moaned as he felt the wetness there, tracing the damp folds with his fingertips before easily slipping 2 of them just barely inside.

My hips jerked as much as they were able and my whimpers grew even louder at the feel of even that little bit of him inside me. My anger was still there, bubbling just beneath the surface, but it only seemed to add to the intensity of my need. Oh God, did I need him! Not just these teasing little touches, but all of him—hard, fast, and most importantly, NOW.

He was still moving entirely too slowly, seemingly oblivious to the silent demands of my body, so I managed to force out the words to ask for what I so desperately needed. "Please, more…" I managed, only to be answered with a low chuckle.

"Oh, I don't think so. You have kept me waiting these past three days, Love. I think it only fair that I return the favor in some small measure." His fingers continued to tease, barely dipping inside before retreating to trace circles and loops around my most intimate area. "But then again, I must admit to being curious as to whether this part of you still tastes the same. I think I'll just have to check and see."

With that he dropped to his knees behind me. His hand still held my wrists, but the upward pressure eased considerably as he allowed them to rest against the small of my back. The thought flitted through my mind that I could probably get loose now; but then he used his free hand to push my legs even farther apart as he settled himself in between them, and my mind went blank with pleasure when warm wet flesh came in contact with warm wet flesh of another kind.

I remembered the feel of his mouth. I remembered the mind-blowing ecstasy of his agile tongue sliding against me, inside me. I remembered…nothing. There had never been anything quite like this. I shouldn't have been surprised, after experiencing how much more intense every touch, every sensation was to me now. I should have known that he had been holding back before, every movement restrained and controlled so that my fragile human body would not break under his touch. But no longer.

His mouth was hungry and insistent as it licked and sucked, assaulted and devoured. Moaning, he pushed one of my knees up onto the bed as he delved even deeper, his tongue seemingly everywhere at once. My face was buried in the bed, the soft mattress muffling my screams as I shivered and quaked under the force of his attack.

I was right there, only seconds away from tipping over the edge into oblivion, when suddenly his mouth disappeared and a hard smack landed on the curve of my ass, surprising a sharp scream from me.

"Oh no, you don't. I told you, you're going to have to wait. Do you remember what I said to you that first night, Isabella? Your blood may no longer be at issue, but the rest still remains true. This gorgeous body belongs to me. Your pleasure is mine to control, to give or withhold as I please. And right now it pleases me to make you beg for it. Bad girls should beg for forgiveness, and you have been a very bad girl, haven't you, Love?"

Oh, no, he did not. What was I, a dog? Where the hell did he get off—

Another sharp smack landed on my bottom, and I gasped in shock at the sensation. It didn't actually hurt, which surprised me; there was just a slight, painless sting, followed by a warm tingling sensation. It was actually rather—smack!—oh, yes, that was—smack!—

In no time at all I was back on the edge, swimming in an ocean of mindless want, heedless of the cries and whimpers that poured from me as Edward's hand alternately smacked and stroked my quivering cheeks, occasionally slipping down to slide through my dripping center. His other hand never let go of my wrists, although it was more of a token gesture by now than anything else.

I was once again teetering on the knife-edge of release, just one more touch away from diving into the abyss, when for the second time everything stopped. I sobbed in frustration, writhing against the bed as I tried to find some kind of satisfaction. As if from a great distance I heard the sound of a zipper, and a moment later I felt something hard as stone yet soft as silk pressed up against my wetness. Whimpering with need, I tried to press back against it, to push it inside where I so desperately craved it.

"No, Love. I told you what I want. You know how I love to hear you beg, how sweet 'please' sounds coming from your lips." His voice was smooth as velvet, but even in my frantic state I could detect the ragged edges to it. He was not nearly as unaffected as he was trying to come across, and that observation was enough for me to be able to swallow back the words that threatened to tumble forth. Lord knew how I wanted him, but not like this. Not in some power play where I ceded all control and self-respect, humbling myself to him and allowing myself to become his toy.

We were no longer vampire and human, predator and prey, strong and weak. We were equals now, and we would come together as equals or not at all. So, even though I was almost crying with need, I managed to keep locked inside the words that would give me what I so desperately wanted in the short term. He didn't make it easy, though.

"Come now, Love, you know how much you want this. The pleas always fall so easily from your lips; I'm not asking for anything you haven't already given countless times before. Just one little word, and you can have what you want." Tightly controlled, impassive, even—unless you knew how he sounded when he was close to the edge. Then you could make out the slight catch in his breath, the way his voice broke just the tiniest bit when he called me Love. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to keep me from breaking. I was panting now, pulling in oxygen I didn't need but couldn't seem to do without lungful by desperate lungful. I didn't know how much longer I could hold on.

"Say it, Isabella. Say it, out loud." The cracks were more audible now, his own desperation bleeding through and coloring his musical voice. I trembled under him, wanting so badly to give him what we both craved. "Say it, Isabella; this is your last chance. Say it now or I get up and leave you here like this."

And this was it. Endgame. One word, just one little "please", and we could both find satisfaction. Or I could take a chance, keep silent, and gamble on a bluff. Was it worth the risk?

Turning my head to the side, I took in several deep breaths, licked my lips, and spoke a single word.

"Fine."

Edward went absolutely still, and I waited several seconds for him to make a move, one way or the other. My body was revolting against my rational, cockblocking head, begging me to change my mind before it was too late. He was still here, he hadn't left yet—I could still fix this. I could give him what he wanted, and in exchange get what I wanted. It was win-win.

"Go, then. Get up; leave."

I didn't know what divine being intervened to grant me strength, and I didn't know whether to thank or curse Him or Her. But the decision was made, and there was no backing down from it now. The ball was firmly in his court, and I could only see where he decided to take it.

There were several beats of still silence, broken only by the ragged breaths neither of us could seem to control. I waited, hope diminishing further with each second that passed, slipping into the depression of the gambler who has bet everything on a single hand—and lost.

My thoughts scattered when a feral cry ripped from Edward's throat. Releasing my wrists, he grabbed onto my hips with both hands and lunged forward, driving deep inside. My hands immediately came up to grip the comforter, tearing through the fabric as my fingers dug into the soft mattress beneath. Behind me Edward set a frantic pace, each hard lunge bringing him so deep I could almost taste him in my throat.

I only noticed when the bed collapsed beneath us because suddenly I was being dragged backwards and pushed onto my knees on the floor, Edward—still somehow lodged deep inside me—dropping to his own knees behind me. Pushing my legs wide apart with own, he continued his frenzied thrusting as I buried my face into the floor, crying out with every hard slam of his hips against mine.

Soon his movements became quicker, harder, more erratic, and I knew he was close. So was I, but I didn't know if I was going to make it in time. I should have known he would never allow such a thing, as—never breaking rhythm—one of his hands moved from my hip to slip down between my legs. His fingers found me, stroking and circling as he continued to pound into me from behind.

Then I was coming, screaming my release into the floorboards as he cried out his own behind me.

There was no recovery, no quiet snuggling, no time—and no need—for rest or recuperation. Our cries had barely faded away before I found myself turned over onto my back, Edward once more sliding himself deep inside me. His mouth captured mine, his tongue seeking and exploring as his hands pulled my legs up around his sides. My fingers automatically lost themselves in his bronze locks, holding him close as my mouth moved with his.

His lips tore themselves from mine, trailing kisses over my face as his body moved with slow deliberation above me. And this, this was why I had been so thrilled when I woke up to the knowledge that he had decided to keep me for his own. This was what I had once spent an entire night wallowing in. This was why I had dared to refuse him for the very first time, to gamble that he wouldn't be able to simply walk away. This strange connection, forged when we should have been no more to each other than a predator and his next meal. It was wholly unnatural, should have been impossible, yet somehow it existed—undeniable, irrefutable, irrevocable.

And now quiet murmurs interspersed his soft kisses. "You are so lovely", and "I couldn't bear to let you go", and "I need you". And now his movements, while still gentle, were beginning to grow more insistent. And his words matched his movements, and now it was "Don't hate me", and "Don't leave", and "I can't be without you".

And I stroked his hair, and I smoothed his brow, and I moved with him as I whispered back. And it was "You have me", and "I'm yours", and "I need you, too". And when I felt his quiet words against my neck I pulled his soft lips back to mine, and I tightened my arms and legs around him, and I rocked my body up against his as I gave him everything I had to give.

But I didn't answer.

As we lay together afterward, fingers softly combing through silken hair, over delicate eyelids, across smooth skin, I was thankful that I was no longer capable of tears.

I had won the battle, but victory was bittersweet as I faced the knowledge that soon—very soon from the feel of it—I was going to cause Edward pain.

I understood his ability to feed without compunction. Knowing the thoughts of his prey, he could pass over the innocents and pursue only the evil. He may still see himself as a villain, but I disagreed. If he killed a murderer, then wasn't he indirectly saving the lives of all of that person's future victims?

But just because I could understand, didn't mean I could participate. I knew—Edward had been very clear about the fact—that the people I had killed had been worthy of death. Yet still, I couldn't escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified, and I knew it was something I would never be able to face again.

So I closed my eyes, and I held him close, and I let myself pretend—just for a while—that this was the beginning of our happily ever after.

And I did my best to ignore the quiet burning in my throat.

* * *

Remember a couple chapters ago, when I promised you a 3-part story? Well, as you may have noticed, this is the end of chapter number 3. **BUT THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY**, so please don't send me any hate mail. While the story arc has remained the same, it seems that my extreme word-vomit has resulted in each chapter only containing about half of what I anticipated. Consequently, I anticipate at least 2 more chapters before this thing is finished. Please don't hate me.


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, this is late. Yes, it is a very sad state of affairs when an author who only updates once a month STILL can't manage to get a chapter out on time. I have lots of excuses, but I won't bore you with them. Instead I offer my apologies, and my hope that it won't happen again (it probably will).

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everybody that has reviewed so far. And extra special thanks to Renee Aubin; your reviews came at a time when I was really struggling with the direction and content of this chapter, and your in-depth and insightful comments gave me the push I needed to finally finish it. Thank you.

There are a few lines taken directly from _Twilight_, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.

**WARNING: DARK SEXUAL THEMES, VIOLENCE**

* * *

As a human, I had never thought much about sex. I never had the typical girlish crushes on movie stars, never looked at a cute boy in school and imagined what it might feel like to have his lips on mine, his hands running over my body. If I thought of physical intimacy at all, any vague curiosity I might have felt was eclipsed by a sense of nervous trepidation. And no little bit of distaste.

After all, it seemed like such an awkward, messy business. I wasn't completely sheltered—I had seen plenty of sexy scenes in movies, skimmed over a few explicit passages in novels (only one of the many reasons I preferred the old classics). I suppose I had a half-formed notion that someday—many years in the future—I would fall in love with somebody and want to be with him in that way. But it just wasn't something I could really picture myself doing.

The allure of shower sex, in particular, was completely beyond my comprehension. Why would anyone want to engage in such a slippery, wet, and altogether _dangerous_ activity? If I had made a list of things I was most unlikely to ever want to try, shower sex would have probably been up at the top (that is, if the thought of sex had even crossed my mind, which was doubtful), just underneath bungee jumping, parachuting, and riding a motorcycle.

So how was it that I found myself wrapped around my own personal Adonis—my legs locked around his waist, one of his hands tangled in my hair as the other grasped my hip, our mouths fused together—as hot water rained down upon us?

I would blame it on hormones, except…well, I didn't have those anymore. So, I blamed it on Edward. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and it really wasn't my fault that he was so damn irresistible, was it? So yes, I blamed Edward.

We had spent the past couple of days thoroughly finishing off the job of destroying his bedroom, and had gotten very…sticky…in the process. Yes, even vampire sex could get messy, when you had that much of it. We may not sweat, but there are other…yeah.

So when one of the soft down pillows was somehow gutted—spewing great clouds of white fluff from one corner of the room to the other—the resulting mess was only to be expected.

I didn't even notice the explosion itself, being otherwise occupied at the time, but the light skim of feathers glued to our bodies made what had happened pretty obvious.

Which brought us to the shower. And Edward's hands as he stood behind me and gently washed the feathers out of my hair. And his lips on my shoulder as he slowly soaped the rest of me, being oh so careful not to miss one single inch of skin.

And then those same lips were on my stomach when I pushed him down to his knees so that I could more easily reach the unruly mess atop his own head. I took my time massaging the shampoo in, loving the silken feel of the wet tresses as they slipped through my fingers. The usual bronze color had turned to a dark brown in the water, its typical brilliant glow now as soft and muted as a tarnished penny as it brushed softly against the smooth white marble of my skin.

And even though it was supposed to be my turn to wash him, it was hard to do anything other than lean my face up into the warm spray, moaning and gasping as my hands clenched tighter against his scalp.

The feel of his lips caressing my belly, of his tongue licking up the undersides of my breasts before circling around the hard peaks, of his hands tracing their way up the backs of my thighs and then cupping the rounded flesh above them…

And this, also, was only to be expected. Edward's hands, Edward's mouth…they had been more or less permanently affixed to any available part of my anatomy ever since he had finally cracked and admitted that he needed me. Those broken whispers had been his only verbal acknowledgment, but it was there in every touch, in every kiss, in every desperate, heaving thrust.

It was in the way he buried his face into my neck as he cried out his release; it was in the way his arms wrapped so tightly around me, steel vices holding me as close as possible until it seemed incomprehensible that we weren't permanently melded together into one being. It was in the gentle brush of his lips across the top of my head as we lay still and quiet, me half on top of him with my cheek resting on his chest, one leg thrown over his hip.

And always, it was there in his eyes. Whether they were aflame with passion or soft with repletion, his eyes told a story of a need so great that it was almost unfathomable in its intensity; a need that could not be fought, could not be ignored, and would never be satisfied.

_You're my obsession, my addiction, my drug…_

It was as thrilling as it was terrifying, to know that something about you called so strongly and irresistibly to something inside another person. To see that look in somebody's eyes that says everything they ever wanted, ever needed, is now within their grasp because they have _finally found you_.

To know that if you could bring yourself to look into a mirror, you would recognize the expression in the face gazing back at you.

_Don't want to be without you…_

To know that soon you are going to take it all away.

But right now, none of that mattered. Because Edward was pulling one leg up over his shoulder, giving his mouth better access to me—my gasps becoming sharp cries as his tongue worked its magic.

Then he pulled my other leg up to rest on his opposite shoulder, and I just about lost my mind. His mouth was now perfectly positioned to reach _everywhere_, and with a moan he used his hand on my ass to pull me even closer as he sat back on his heels. His other hand pressed against my back, easily supporting my weight and holding me steady even as my body bucked and shuddered.

My screams were still echoing off the shower walls as Edward stood up, sliding my thighs down from his shoulders in the same smooth motion. He didn't put me down, but instead guided my boneless legs around his hips as he slowly pushed his way inside me. He pulled my mouth to his, and his tongue repeated in my mouth the movements it had just moments ago been performing between my legs. I met it eagerly, winding my arms tightly around his neck so that I could press my lips to his with even greater urgency.

The taste of myself—on his tongue, on his lips, imbued into every surface and crevice of his mouth—was unimaginably erotic, and my legs tightened around him as a quiet little sound of appreciation escaped.

Which was how I found myself wrapped around my own personal Adonis—my legs locked around his waist, one of his hands tangled in my hair…

…realizing that although sex in the shower may be awkward and dangerous for fragile, weak, clumsy humans, for vampires it was about as close to heaven as we were ever likely to get.

With preternatural grace and speed on our side, there was no fear of slipping or overbalancing. Edward was more than strong enough to support my weight in any position we could contort ourselves into. And even if by some miracle he did manage to lose his grip, I would have more than enough time to unwind my legs from around him and get my feet underneath me before I even began to think about falling. There was no danger, no fear, no drawbacks whatsoever. At this exact, precise, single moment in time, I absolutely reveled in being a vampire.

There was heat everywhere: the steam that filled the cubicle and that with every breath warmed my insides, Edward's body that had been heated by the scalding temperature of the water that poured down on us from the showerhead. Even the blistering flames that had taken up permanent residence in my throat had ceased to hurt for the moment as they merged together with everything else that was burning me—in the best possible way—from the inside out.

Heaven on Earth isn't so hard to find, after all.

Edward seemed as reluctant as I to let the interlude end, continuing to hold me tightly against him for several minutes. Eventually he pulled back a bit, dropping a light kiss on the end of my nose and flashing a playful smirk at me. If I still had a heartbeat, it would have stuttered. They were few and far between, but nothing—absolutely nothing—was as beautiful to me as Edward's smile.

"I believe you missed a spot. In fact, you seem to have missed several spots."

I shrugged my shoulders…at least, as much as I was able to without loosening my arms from around his neck. "Eh, you're clean enough."

His smirk grew into a grin, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my expression nonchalant instead of beaming back at him like the besotted fool that I was.

I clung like a limpet as he turned off the spray and stepped out of the shower, unwilling to relinquish my hold even when he reached for a towel and began trying to dry off. We were both laughing, playing, and probably about 2 minutes away from having each other on the vanity. I was happy. Edward was happy.

It is one of the greatly unfair facts of life that those moments you wish could last forever are usually the most fleeting.

I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, and glanced over to it without thinking.

Beautiful wasn't even the right word to describe her. Ethereal, perhaps. Her pale skin was luminous, almost glowing. What parts of her body I could see were perfectly proportioned—toned arms and legs, and a slender waist that curved into a cute little heart-shaped derriere. Her hair was dark and wild, falling in wet trails more than halfway down her back.

But it was her face that caught the eye and held it hostage. Shiny pink lips that were curved up in a generous smile, large eyes rimmed with sooty black lashes so long they almost looked fake, skin that was smooth and clear as milk glass. But although each feature on its own was beautiful, it was the way they were all put together that created a stunning visual masterpiece that was almost painful to look upon.

This girl—no, this _woman_—looked as if she belonged nowhere else but in the arms of the God who held her. They were a matched pair, both visions of flawless perfection wrapped around each other so tightly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

This wasn't me. It couldn't be.

"What is it, Love? Are you alright?"

Red eyes collided as the two figures regarded each other through the mirror—one set narrowed with worry, the other wide in baffled wonderment.

"Yeah, I just…" I trailed off, my gaze returning to my own reflection. Yes, the eyes were sort of terrifying, but other than that…

"It's just not quite what I was expecting."

Edward's worried expression smoothed out in understanding. He brought us closer to the mirror, reaching up a hand to push a few wet strands of hair away from my face.

"This is the first time you've seen yourself." It was a statement rather than a question, but I nodded anyway.

"I guess I was expecting something more like…I don't know…she doesn't look…" _Evil_, was what I had been about to say, but stopped myself before the word could escape. "…like me." I finished instead.

"She?"

"Well, I mean me, I guess. But it's hard to think of that", I waved my hand toward the mirror, "as me. It's nice that I'm all pretty now, I suppose, but it's hard to get used to the idea that I don't look like me anymore. It's like there's nothing left of the person I used to be; it's all getting replaced, and wiped away, and everything's just so different!"

None of that was actually what I had been thinking, but as I heard myself saying the words I suddenly realized how much I meant them. I did feel as if I was losing myself, piece by piece, to some strange alien being who had invaded and taken over my life. If I didn't think the same, didn't sound the same, didn't look the same—was I even really still _me_?

I was pulled from my thoughts by Edward's hand on my chin, pulling my face away from the mirror so that I was facing him. He waited to speak until I looked up into his eyes, and when he did his voice was quiet but firm.

"Isabella, you have _never_ been merely pretty. And all of that…"—now it was his turn to wave a hand at the mirror—"is merely camouflage. Window dressing, if you will. It doesn't mean anything. You're still there, underneath it all, if you just look."

His hand was on my chin once more, this time turning me back toward the mirror again. His eyes met mine, and his thumb reached up to brush my mouth. "You're here, in the way your top lip is just a little bit fuller than the bottom one—which you still bite when you're nervous, or scared, or concentrating, or really just about all the time." He smiled a bit, and his thumb moved from my mouth so that he could trace a path up to my ear.

"This stubborn little jaw, you still lift it at exactly the same angle when you're getting ready to dig your heels in on something. And you still get this little crease between your eyes when you frown."

His hand was trailing over my face, highlighting each feature as he listed it. Then he once again pulled it around to face him, cupping my cheek in his palm as his eyes searched mine. "And your eyes…the color may have changed, but nothing else is different. The shape…and the depth, and the expressiveness…it's all still there. _You're_ still there."

Pretty boys shouldn't be allowed to have such pretty words. It's just not fair. As if having the face of an angel and the body of a God isn't enough. As if they don't already have the world at their feet. As if they need even one more weapon in their armament designed to bring us lesser beings to our knees.

And as his lips took mine gently, as his arms cradled me as if I was something fragile and cherished, I felt the last walls I didn't even know I had give way and crumble. I stood defeated, the bricks of my defenses scattered all around me, exposed and defenseless.

And my God, it hurt. This…this was something that people spent entire lifetimes searching for. Wars were fought, oceans crossed, lives sacrificed in its name. If you were lucky enough to find it, you were willing to risk anything to keep it. You didn't let it go, you didn't throw it away, you didn't give up on it. You held on tight and challenged the world to just _try_ and take it from you.

But it didn't come free. There was always a price to pay, and I was too weak—too pathetically spineless—to ante up. I had counted the cost, and found it too high. And the worst part—what was so absolutely unforgivable—was that I knew I wasn't going to suffer alone for my cowardice. No, I was going to destroy us both.

* * *

"Do you play?"

I lightly trailed just the very tips of my fingers across the polished black wood of the piano that took pride of place in the center of the room, being extremely careful to keep my touch feather-light.

It was my "maiden voyage", the first time I had stepped foot outside the bedroom suite since the disastrous hunting trip, and I was bound and determined not to break anything.

Instead of answering, Edward walked over and silently lifted the cover, sliding it back to expose the keys. I could feel his gaze on me as he let the fingers of one hand lightly dance over the ivory, effortlessly coaxing a soft melody from the instrument. Unable to meet his eyes, I instead watched the movement of his pale fingers as they rippled fluidly across the surface.

"How do you do that?"

"Play the piano?"

"No. Well, I mean yes, but not just the playing. It seems like I destroy everything I touch. How do you control it?"

"What are you doing, Isabella?"

I looked up, startled. "I don't…what?"

The music stopped abruptly, and the cover slid back into place with a soft click. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

"I don't understand. Doing what?"

He took a step toward me, and I had to force myself not to flinch away from his hand when he raised it up to my face and gently traced a fingertip underneath one of my eyes.

"You know what. It's time to hunt—past time, actually. You may be exceptional, but you _are_ still a newborn. You should be feeding at least every couple of days, and it's been nearly a week. I haven't wanted to push, especially after the colossal blunder I made of it last time. I wanted to let you take things at your own pace; but you're not, even though I can see the thirst ripping you apart. I thought you were finally ready when you decided it was time to put some clothes on and get out of the bedroom; yet instead you're standing here, talking about my _piano_, back to not looking at me. And I want to know why."

"I'm fine—"

"No, you are not 'fine', damn it! I've been doing this for the better part of a century, and _I_ get thirsty if I haven't fed for six days! Don't try and tell me that you're not parched right now, when I can see the shadows under your eyes. I know that dry ache in your throat, the hollow yearning in your stomach. So I don't want to hear 'fine'."

I had actually been doing a decent job of ignoring my blazing thirst, but at his words it sprang to raging life once again. I couldn't help but whimper softly as my hand rose to my neck, and Edward's gaze softened as he reached out and pulled me into his chest.

"There's no need for all this pointless suffering. Just tell me what I can do to make it easier. Would you rather stay here at the house, have me go hunt for you? It will take longer, but I understand if you're nervous about being amongst people right now."

A vision of the meadow flashed behind my closed eyelids, and I couldn't contain my shudder as I shook my head violently from side to side. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek hard against his shirt, soaking up the closeness while I was still able. It was time. He wasn't going to let this go, and he was going to be so angry when he finally understood. I was under no illusions that he would take it well, that he would accept my decision without a fight.

"All right. But if you're going with me then we should take the car; it will help block out the smells, but you'll still want to hold your breath once we get into the city." His hands stroked over my back gently, and he pressed a light kiss against my temple. Where was the smug, arrogant, patronizing bastard from a few days ago? It would make everything so much easier right now if I could just be angry with him—yell, scream, let loose everything inside that was tearing me apart. But no, now he decides to be sweet, and tender, and caring. Stupid, bipolar vampire.

"No."

He sighed deeply. "Love, be reasonable. You're too thirsty right now to be around people without taking some kind of precautions. Neither one of us wants you to lose control; I can't guarantee that I would be able to hold you back."

I buried my face into his chest, breathing in one last lungful of him before pulling away and stepping back, out of his arms. Even though I technically couldn't feel cold, that didn't stop the chill that surged through me as soon as his hands fell away and we were no longer touching.

Immediately my body cried out at the loss of contact, desperate to be held close once more. I wrapped my arms around myself, closing my eyes and breathing deeply for a few seconds as I worked up the courage to face him. Over the past few days I had contemplated this scene a thousand times, running through different scenarios and their possible outcomes in my mind. In the end, I kept coming back to one conclusion—I had to tell him the truth, and I had to look him in the eyes while I did it. We both deserved that much.

So I took one last deep breath, opened my eyes, and prepared to rip my heart out.

"I'm not saying no to the car. I'm saying no to all of it. I'm not going to hunt. I'm not going to feed. I'm not going to kill anybody, not ever again."

"Isabella, we've been through this—"

"Yes, I know. And I understand how you can justify what you do. I get it, I really do. But I can't do that. I won't do it. I would rather die."

"Don't be melodramatic."

"I'm not being melodramatic. I'm stating a fact. I'll starve before I touch another human being."

A harsh laugh was his response. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Do you honestly believe it's that easy? That you can just 'not eat', waste away, and die? Even if I would let you do such a thing—which believe me, I wouldn't—it's just not possible. We are _immortal_, Isabella. Do you understand what that means? There are very, very few things that can kill us, and starvation is most certainly not one of them.

"Do you want to know what would happen if you tried to deny your thirst for any great length of time? That burn that you feel in your throat, it would grow hotter, spreading into your mouth, your stomach, and eventually all through your body. You would go mad with hunger, all rational thought driven away with nothing left but the instinctive urge to feed. Any willpower you have would be completely obliterated by that point, and you would be so wild with thirst that you would attack without a thought at even the faintest scent of blood. What happened in the meadow is nothing compared to what you would be capable of in that state. So you can just put that thought out of your mind right now."

I didn't doubt that he was telling the truth, and shivered internally at the mental picture of myself falling upon some unsuspecting person like a rabid dog. So, starving myself wasn't an option.

"I…I'll just have to find another way, then. When it starts to get too bad."

He threw his hands out in a gesture of frustration. "Were you not listening? _Immortal_, Isabella. Im-mor-tal. What do you think, that you can just jump off a cliff, drown yourself in the ocean, throw back a little bottle of plant extracts? None of that _works_!

"We don't burn up in the sunlight, garlic does nothing but smell vile, and a wooden stake would simply shatter against our skin. Just like Holy water and crucifixes, those are just myths humans tell themselves so that they can have the illusion that they stand a chance against us. The truth is, the only thing that can kill a vampire is another vampire, and believe me when I say that I am not about to let that happen. He or she would have to go through me first—and that, my love, is virtually impossible." He tapped one forefinger against his temple. I believed him. You can't win a fight against someone who can hear your every thought, who knows what you're going to do almost before you know it yourself.

"I'm sorry that you're so unhappy with this life, but the fact remains that it _is_ your life now. There's no way out, and the sooner you accept that, the better. So it's time to grow up, face reality, and stop behaving like a petulant child throwing a fit because she doesn't want to eat her vegetables."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can't hear _my_ thoughts, and you once threatened to end my life yourself if I ever raised a hand to you again. Maybe I'll just have to take you up on that."

And the moral of this particular little story is that you should always be careful what you wish for. Because the sweet, caring Edward I had so bemoaned earlier was nowhere in evidence now; he had been replaced by an angry, dangerous hunter who deliberately stalked me around the room as I slowly retreated. I didn't actually think he would hurt me, but instinct still had me circling warily, keeping out in the open area and away from the walls.

"I wouldn't recommend it. You won't get the result you're looking for, and I don't think you would like the consequences very much."

_Stop this. Stop this. Stop this._ A voice was chanting in my head, telling me that this had gone much farther than I had intended. That I should stand still, stop backing away—that I was only inciting his predatory instincts by trying to escape. _He won't hurt you. Stand down. Apologize. Get back on track. This isn't how this was supposed to go._

"Oh, I don't know about that. I seem to remember liking the consequences just fine." _What the hell are you doing?_

Without warning I was on the floor, pinned beneath his weight. _Now here we are, right back where we started._ His lips were pulled back into an angry sneer, but this close the expression seemed almost forced—a mask covering some other emotion, something that remained hidden behind the veneer of violence.

"Is this what you want, what it's all about for you? Do you want to be forced, dominated, hurt? Is that what it will take to make you happy? To make you stay?" I didn't get a chance to answer, silenced by his mouth ravaging mine.

This kiss wasn't like any other we had shared, and not only because it was the first time I had ever felt like anything he did to me was done by force. There was just…nothing there. No, that wasn't quite right. The ever-present electricity, the passion, the goddamn _need_ were all there. But something was missing—that indefinable element that had always been there, from the very first touch. I felt empty.

I tried to kiss him back, to gentle his assault with my response, but he was having none of it. With brutal strength he raped my mouth with his tongue, slamming my arms back into the floor when I tried to wrap them around his neck. He grasped the neck of my new t-shirt in his hand, ripping it down the center with one quick motion that bared me to the waist. Then his mouth withdrew from mine—trailing down my throat, fastening onto the peak of one breast and sucking hard.

The pleasure was immediate, my back arching involuntarily to push myself harder up against his mouth. But still, it felt somehow wrong—hollow. It didn't hurt me when his teeth clamped down hard, but I screamed in surprise and the expectation of a pain that failed to come. Edward froze above me, and I thought for a moment that he was going to pull away. But after a couple of seconds I felt his jaw tense as his hand wrapped around the waistband of my jeans. And I suddenly remembered that my mouth was now free.

"Edward. Stop."

It was barely a whisper, but the response was instantaneous. One moment he was above me, preparing to tear my jeans from my body. The next he was gone, and I was lying alone and half-naked on the floor. Sitting up I spotted him hunched over on the piano bench, elbows on his knees and hands buried in his hair. I pulled the tattered remains of my shirt closed as best I could, crossing my arms over my chest when I realized there wasn't enough material left to maintain any semblance of modesty. _Not that it's really necessary_, I thought as I rose and walked toward him, _it's not like it's anything he hasn't seen a hundred times by now_.

I dropped to my knees when I reached him, leaning my forehead against his and reaching up to stroke his hands. "Edward…" I whispered, not sure what else to say.

"I don't know what you want from me."

He sounded so broken, and my chest felt like a vice was wrapped around it, squeezing. "I just want you."

He shook his head minutely. "I can't give you what you need. I tried, but…I can't hurt you. Everything in me recoils at the very thought, and actually trying to do it…I can't bear your pain. I can't be the cause of it."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it that first night."

I regretted the words before they even left my mouth, and guilt pierced me as Edward hunched over even further, digging his hands deeper into his hair and pulling hard.

"Edward." I disentangled his fingers from his hair and pulled them to my lips. "Edward, you need to listen to me. _You_ are what I want. After the last few days, I don't understand how you could possibly doubt that. And I really don't understand what in the hell gave you the impression that I want you to _hurt_ me. Why would you even think that?"

He gave a disbelieving snort. "I don't know how much you remember about the night I took you, but trust me—you enjoyed everything. You're right, I didn't have any problem hurting you that night. I practically sliced you to ribbons, over and over again, and you couldn't get enough."

"So…you thought that I enjoyed myself because of the pain? That I _got off _on it? Jesus!" Dropping his hands, I sat back on my heels and dragged my fingers through my hair—in the back of my mind noting that I seemed to have picked up some of Edward's nervous habits. I heard him groan softly, and looked up to find him holding his own shirt out toward me, eyes closed and jaw tense. I put it on quickly, once again thankful that I no longer had the ability to blush.

"First off, I remember everything about that night. It's fuzzy, and dark, but it's all there. It was the best night of my life—my human life, anyway. You showed me things that I never even imagined, took me places beyond my wildest dreams. I'm not going to try and say that you didn't hurt me, because you did. A lot. And it was worth it, but not because I enjoyed the pain. It was…like…going to Disneyland, and the ticket to get in costs a damn fortune. But every single day there are hundreds of people lined up at the gates who can't wait to pay it, because…well, it's the Magic Kingdom.

"That's what it was like for me. The way you touched me, the things you made me feel—you were my 'happiest place on Earth', and the pain was just the cost of admission."

"Then stay."

The words were whisper-soft, but cut like knives. I closed my eyes against the sting, and shook my head.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You said that I'm what you want. Prove it. Stay."

"What we want and what we can have aren't always the same thing."

Finally, he lifted his head and looked at me. For several minutes we sat like that—me begging him with my eyes to understand, to let me go. I didn't know what was going through his mind as his eyes searched my face, but eventually his gaze hardened and my stomach dropped. He had come to some kind of decision, and it didn't look like it was going to be the one I wanted.

"You're right; we can't always have what we want. But nevertheless, you _will_ be staying—even if only because of that ridiculously tender heart of yours. You can't kill yourself, and there's nobody else around willing or able to do the job for you. So, sooner or later, whether you want to or not, you _will_ end up feeding. It's your choice whether you do it with my help, or in the grip of the mindless bloodlust that starving yourself will induce. So think long and hard about which you would rather have on your conscience—criminals, or innocents."

In one fluid motion he stood from the bench, stepped around me, and disappeared out the doorway—leaving me broken and alone as I curled into a ball on the floor and cried.

* * *

Crying is not nearly as cathartic when there are no actual tears, and even after my sobs had tapered off and finally died out I felt no relief. For a long time I lay motionless there on the floor, my eyes open but not seeing what was in front of me. All I saw was his face, the coldness of his eyes as he laid down his final ultimatum. Only it wasn't really an ultimatum, because he hadn't threatened me with anything. He had offered his help if I chose to accept it, and if I didn't…the consequences would all be on me. But still…the distance he had put up, the complete lack of emotion…it hurt worse than I could have dreamed.

Had I only imagined that he felt the way that I did? Had I been fooling myself all along in thinking that this pull, this connection, that I felt was reciprocated? When I saw the need in his eyes, was I only seeing my own emotions reflected back at me? Maybe I had been wrong all along; maybe he was telling the truth when he said that sex and a silent mind were all he was after when he changed me. I was nothing more than a shiny new toy that he wasn't willing to part with yet.

And I should have been happy. I should have been thankful that his feelings were so shallow, that I wasn't going to ruin him when I left. Because no matter what he thought about me and my "ridiculously tender heart", I knew I couldn't stay. I couldn't just give in to the bloodthirsty monster inside of me without a fight. I may not be able to kill myself, but I could do everything within my power to make certain that no human would ever cross my path. Even if starvation was impossible, if I could abstain long enough then surely I must eventually grow too weak to be a threat. I would swim to Antarctica if that were what it took, but I would not kill again.

But what I should have felt didn't matter. I wasn't happy. I wasn't thankful. I was heartbroken—absolutely destroyed—and it was my own fault. It was all a lie…but it was one that I had told to myself. Edward had never promised me anything, had never given any real indication that he felt anything more than lust and perhaps affection. But that hadn't stopped me from making assumption after assumption. I had chosen to read more than I should have into his decision to change me, his craving for my body, a few idle phrases murmured in the heat of passion.

I was nothing but a stupid, silly little girl, thinking that she had somehow won the heart of a God.

Eventually I rose and made my way back up the stairs, pausing outside the door to the bedroom where most of my short second life had taken place. Steeling myself to enter the room where I had died and been reborn, where all my most precious memories had been created, I slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It looked as if a wrecking ball had gone mad—demolishing furniture, breaking through walls, and tearing up the floor. And everything—everything—was covered in feathers. It was utterly ridiculous, and I couldn't help laughing just a bit as I crossed to the closet. Inside, I gently pulled off Edward's shirt before carelessly yanking off the remains of mine that I still wore underneath it. Looking through the various shelves and drawers, I quickly realized that although half of them were filled with clothes obviously meant for me—t-shirts, sweaters, jeans, a few skirts and blouses—there was not a bra or a pair of panties to be found. And once again, I had to laugh.

I grabbed a shirt at random and was just about to slip it over my head when my gaze landed on the small puddle of blue material lying on the floor. Edward's shirt. Slowly I refolded the shirt in my hands and put it back in the drawer. Picking the article of clothing up off the floor, I held it up to my nose and breathed in deeply. It smelled like him. My heart clenched, my stomach did a little flip, and my throat felt as if a fist was wrapped tightly around it and squeezing, but I buried my face even farther into it and took another large gulp of air before slipping the shirt back on. It wasn't much, but if this were all I was going to get to keep of him, then I would take it.

The laces of the first pair of shoes I tried to put on snapped under my fingers, so I tossed them to the side and pulled on a buttery-soft pair of black leather boots, instead. Not that I actually needed shoes, or the gray wool coat I slipped on, but still…

Exiting the closet, I stopped to take one last look around the room before leaving. My eyes fell upon what was left of the bed, and almost against my will I found myself crossing over to it, running my hand lightly across the mattress and stirring up a small cloud of fluff. I felt a sad smile on my lips as I remembered once thinking that it had to be the softest, most comfortable bed in existence. Closing my eyes, I let my memories have rein one last time—taking me back to the first time I ever laid eyes on the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, the red-eyed angel who had changed the course of my existence.

_"Isabella, open your eyes."_

_His voice commanded me, and even though it was the last thing on Earth I wanted to do, I was helpless to disobey. Slowly they fluttered open, blinking repeatedly as they tried to adjust to the sudden dim light after being in the dark for so long. His face came into focus, and my breath once again stopped in my throat._

_He was beautiful._

_Devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful._

_His was not a face you would ever expect to see outside of the airbrushed images in a fashion magazine, or perhaps sculpted by an old master as the face of an angel—or a Greek God. Alabaster white skin; sharp jaw line; pouty red lips; perfectly sculpted cheekbones. His hair was a messy mop of bronze; some of the too long locks tipping forward over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes._

_His deep crimson eyes._

_"How?" His musical voice was hard, wary. For the first time I felt like I was hearing the real him, and not some character he was playing for my benefit._

_"My dad's best friend is Billy Black. His son Jacob is about my age, so we've been playing together practically since we were born."_

_He still looked puzzled, as if trying to figure out how this was answering his question, so I continued._

_"Billy Black is one of the Quileute elders." I watched as his confused expression froze in place. "I've been hearing Quileute legends all my life. When we were young, some of the older kids used to tell us the scary ones, trying to frighten us like bigger kids will do. There was one…."_

_"Go on," he said._

_"About vampires."_

_His face was unmoving, a seraphic image carved in stone. Only the red eyes staring deep into mine gave away the demon inside the angel. After several minutes he began to speak in a cool, even voice that I hadn't heard from him before, his eyes boring into mine relentlessly._

_"You know then, you won't be leaving this room."_

My eyes flew open, and the breath left my lungs in a powerful gasp. That was it. The answer had been right there in my memories the entire time. I knew the stories, I had heard the legends often enough. The murderous "cold ones" who swept through the area like a plague. The way the descendents of the great Quileute chief would change into wolves to protect the tribe whenever one was near. Silly legends, told as horror stories around campfires late at night. And yet…

Everything they had said about vampires was true. The beauty, the speed, the strength, and the skin that was hard as granite. And if they had been so very right about the "cold ones", then was it so impossible to believe that the wolves were real, as well? Wolves whose teeth could tear a vampire's head off, could rip its stone body into pieces…

Without a moment's hesitation I was gone. Down the stairs, out the door, into the woods…where I realized I had absolutely no idea where I was.

Well, that was…anticlimactic.

I stopped in my tracks, trying to decide what my next move should be—since running aimlessly through the woods suddenly didn't seem like such a grand plan. I needed to know where I was in order to decide how to get where I was going, but how to do that?

I snorted at myself as the answer suddenly came clear. The driveway. Duh. I hadn't paid it any attention before now, although I had seen it the first time we left the house. A driveway would lead to a road, where eventually there would be road signs. And actually, walking probably wasn't the best idea, either. Edward's voice played back in my head—

"_All right. But if you're going with me then we should take the car—it will help block out the smells, but you'll still want to hold your breath once we get into the city."_

Okay, so there was a car—which I should probably take if I didn't want to risk killing the first person whose scent I caught. That meant I needed to find the keys.

Decisions made, I turned to make my way back to the house—only to stop abruptly when I saw Edward watching me from several yards away. He was perfectly still, his expression unreadable as he eyed me carefully. We stayed like that for several seconds, neither of us moving as we regarded each other across the expanse of spongy earth that separated us.

I couldn't speak through the lump in my throat. I hadn't expected to see him again, had hoped to be gone before he got back from wherever it was he went when he left me sobbing on the floor. As far as I was concerned, we had said all there was to be said between us—so I didn't know what to do now that he was right there in front of me, standing directly in my path.

He was still shirtless, and my mouth went dry as my eyes traced the planes of his perfect chest—the chest I would never touch, never kiss, would never lay my head on again. Pain blossomed in the pit of my stomach, because no matter what he felt or didn't feel for me, it didn't change the fact that he owned me completely.

"Going somewhere?" He finally broke the silence, cocking his head to the side slightly, face still smooth and clear as glass. As if he was just making idle conversation, and had no real interest in my answer. As if it didn't matter whether I stayed or went.

Forcing myself to take that first step forward—then the next, then the next—I merely nodded my head as I passed by him, so close I could have touched him if I just reached out my hand. But I didn't, and once he was behind me it became a tiny bit easier to continue toward the house.

"Where?" His voice was bored. Idle curiosity, no more.

"La Push." I was halfway back to the house, almost breaking out of the trees, when all hell broke loose behind me.

A loud growl ripped through the air, accompanied by an earsplitting crack—which was followed closely by a deafening crash as something shattered into pieces a short distance away. Before I even had time to turn around a hand had grasped me by the upper arm, swinging me around and pushing my back up against a gigantic tree that stood close by. I stared up at the terrifying vision before me, shocked.

Gone was the icy mask of indifference, replaced by a look of such rage that I instinctively cowered back into the tree. His hair was like a sheet of flames surrounding the bone-white perfection of his face, and fire blazed out from his eyes. He seemed almost lit from within by the furious intensity of his anger, beautiful and terrible as Lucifer raised from the pits of Hell to bring forth Armageddon.

"No!" The word was nothing more than a snarl squeezed from between clenched teeth as he grasped both of my upper arms and shook hard enough to rattle my teeth. "No! You will NOT take yourself from me!" Then his mouth was on mine, his hands on my arms yanking me into his body, and this time there was nothing missing as I kissed him back hungrily. Even though his body was practically trembling with rage, there was no anger in his kiss—only a needy desperation as his tongue swept through my mouth and begged mine to join it.

His mouth abandoned mine all too soon, and his eyes once more blazed down into mine. "You're not going anywhere near that place, do you hear me? Do you really think that I'm going to let you go so easily, now that I've finally found you?" He gave me another small shake. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this—you're mine. Mine! And my patience with your stubbornness is at an end. Tonight I am taking you into the city, and you ARE going to feed. If I have to rip out somebody's throat right in front of you, then I will. Trust me, you won't be able to resist once the blood is flowing hot and wet just a few feet away."

Horror swept through me, and with a cry I broke from Edward's grip, sinking to my knees at his feet. I had no doubt that he was right about my inability to resist—the crippling thirst was clawing out my insides just from the imagery brought forth by his words. I would never be able to turn away from the reality. My shoulders shook with the strength of my sobs as I knelt before him, and in desperation I looked up, pleading with everything I had.

"Please." I whispered. "Please, don't. You wanted me to beg—well, I'll do it. I'm begging you; please don't do this. I'll do anything you want me to do, say anything you want me to say. Just please—_please_—don't make me do something I'll hate myself forever for. I don't want to be a monster. _Please_."

We stared at each other like that, Edward looking almost sick as his eyes locked with my pleading ones for several seconds before taking a shaky step backward. Then he took another, and another, until with a hoarse cry he turned and plowed a fist into the nearest tree. I choked back a cry, pressing my hands up to my mouth as he yelled out something garbled and unintelligible and pushed the trunk over with a mighty shove. I couldn't hear if he made any other outcries after that, as the forest reverberated with the sounds of tree after tree being uprooted, thrown, crushed and smashed into splinters.

My breath continued to come in hitches and gasps, seemingly beyond my ability to control, as the destruction raged around me. Until, finally, it stopped.

I felt him come back to stand in front of me, but didn't look up until he dropped to his knees and took my face into his hands. Palms gently cupping my cheeks, he pulled my head up until he could see my eyes, and I could see his. My shaky breaths stopped abruptly, silenced by the Hell I could see burning in his crimson orbs. Not like before, when it had blazed out like lasers; now it seemed as if it had turned inward, consuming him from the inside out.

For an endless stretch of time we sat motionless as he searched my eyes—for what, I didn't know. All I could do was put everything I was feeling—every plea I had in my heart—into my gaze, and hope that he could see. And understand.

_Please, let me go. I want you, I need you, and I wish I could stay here with you forever. But I can't be what you want me to be. I can't live how you need me to live. You have to let me go. Please._

Finally, his hands dropped, his eyes closed, and he lowered himself to the forest floor. Pulling his knees up, he laid his face down upon them and wrapped his arms around his legs—the very epitome of defeat.

He was letting me go. Once again, I had won. And once again, victory rang hollow.

The moment dragged on while I came to terms with what had to happen next. I didn't know how to say goodbye, couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't somehow make this even worse. So instead I stood silently and made to turn away, toward the house where my escape waited. But before I could take a step, before I could even completely turn, I was stopped by a single word.

"Wait."

I almost didn't. I almost continued on my way to the house, to the car, to my end. But I had once asked him to wait for me, and he had complied without hesitation. I felt I owed him the same consideration; so I stood, half turned away, while he visibly struggled with something.

"Just wait."

It couldn't be coincidence that he used the exact same words I had that night, during a conversation about whether I would live or die. I turned back toward him, wondering what this was about. That night it had been whether my death would be quick and painless, or not. Was that what he was debating now? Was there another—possibly less painful—way for me than in the jaws of a giant wolf?

Finally, he raised his head from his knees to look up at me.

"What if…what if there was another way?"

I relaxed as I realized I had been correct, and that I might be able to avoid being torn to bits. "Another way to die?"

"No. To live."

* * *

Song lyrics used are from _Will You Be There In The Morning _by Heart

There is also a partially quoted lyric in there from _You Had Me From Hello _by Kenny Chesney (_The bricks of my defenses scattered on the ground_ is how it goes in the song)


	5. Chapter 5

I promised a bunch of you that this chapter would be ready more than a week ago, and I honestly though it would be. I'm really sorry that I wasn't able to follow through, but when I read it over before posting, I realized that I hated most of it. And so began the re-writes. I'm still not completely happy with it, but trust me when I say that this is much better than what you would have gotten last week.

As always, thank you so much to everybody who reviews-you have no idea how much they brighten my day. I failed miserably at review replies this last month, but please know that I read them all (repeatedly!), and appreciated each and every one.

There are a few lines taken directly from _Twilight_, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.

All the usual warnings apply.

* * *

_I don't want to lose you  
I don't want you walking away.  
We're so good together  
Tell me it's forever  
Cause I want you to stay.  
I'll be damned if I'm living without you  
And as long as I live, you will know  
I just wanna build my world around you  
I don't want you to go._

Peter Cetera,_ Restless Heart._

* * *

_Finally, he raised his head from his knees to look up at me. _

"_What if…what if there was another way?"_

_I relaxed as I realized I had been correct, and that I might be able to avoid being torn to bits. "Another way to die?"_

"_No. To live."_

The silence stretched on endlessly as I stood frozen, unable to process what had just been said. After an indeterminable amount of time had passed, I managed to find my voice enough to let out a soft whisper.

"I…I don't…understand?"

Slowly Edward rose and took a hesitant step toward me. My entire body tensed and he stopped in his tracks, keeping his posture open and unthreatening. "What if there was another way to survive, one that didn't depend upon human blood? Would you do it?"

My mind was in turmoil. What was this? Was it some kind of trick, some last-ditch desperate attempt to keep me with him? Would he do that to me, try and manipulate my emotions like that, knowing that I truly would rather face excruciating death than do what was supposed to come naturally to our kind? Would he be so cruel? Everything in me said no, he wouldn't—but then none of this made any sense.

"But, I don't understand." I repeated. "You said…"

"I know what I said. Listen to what I'm saying now. There _is_ another way. Will you let me show you?" He held out his hand to me, and for a moment all I could do was look at it in trepidation, as if it was a snake that might bite me if I got too close.

"Let me show you," he repeated in a quiet voice, still holding out his hand, and I couldn't help but remember another time when I had believed in him. We had been in these same woods, he had been looking at me as if he genuinely cared, and I had trusted him to lead and guide me in this strange new life. I had depended on him not to let me fall, and he had proceeded to throw me off the proverbial cliff.

_It's not his fault_, my inner voice whispered. _He didn't know what it would do to you. He was only trying to help, to give you his version of a gift. Ever since you woke up, all he's done is try to be good to you, to give you what he thought you needed. It's not his fault you're defective._

My eyes alternated back and forth between his outstretched hand and his face as indecision immobilized me. His hand beckoned, his eyes begged, my own conscience cajoled and persuaded. But fear kept my feet planted, my hands hanging at my sides instead of reaching out to take his. Fear of falling, fear of allowing myself to be manipulated into doing something I would never forgive myself for, and most of all, fear of hoping. For that was what he was offering me—hope—and it terrified me. After the roller coaster of emotions I had been through since that fateful night in Port Angeles, after finally coming to terms with the decision to end it, could I bear to let myself hope again?

"Please."

One small word, softly spoken, was what finally broke my paralysis. I had put him through so much hell, turned away from him in so many different ways in the short amount of time we had been together, and still he kept reaching out to me, begging me to let him in. How could I refuse him now, and turn my back on the opportunity he was offering? Would I really let my fears prevent me from trying anything and everything that might keep me by his side? No, I wouldn't. If there was a chance, even a sliver of a possibility…then it was worth any risk.

So, slowly I stepped toward him and, never moving my gaze from his, I put myself in his hands. His shoulders visibly sagged with relief, and his fingers tightened on mine as he pulled me close enough that his lips could press themselves to my forehead. "Thank you" he murmured against my skin, before pulling me deeper into the trees.

After a few minutes he increased his pace, releasing my hand so that I could follow more easily behind him. Soon we were both running, and I once again marveled at the crisp clarity my new vision afforded me, bringing everything into sharp relief and committing it to flawless memory. For several minutes I turned myself completely over to the sheer joy of the run—of feeling the wind of our passage on my face, fanning my hair out behind me and bringing with it all the different scents of the forest.

Edward slowed his pace after a short while, eventually coming to a stop several yards from the banks of a small burbling creek. He turned to me then, placing his hands upon my shoulders and looking deep into my eyes. "Do you trust me?" His voice was serious, his face intense as he looked down at me. Did I? I thought hard for a moment, realizing that yes, I did. Perhaps it was illogical, but I had already made my choice when I took his hand and let him lead me blindly along this new path. I trusted him completely.

"Yes." His hands squeezed my shoulders gently, and a brief, small smile flirted with the corners of his mouth before his expression once again turned serious.

"Close your eyes, and listen. What do you hear?"

Obediently, I closed my eyes and focused on what my ears could discern about my surroundings. Everything—it felt as if I could hear every single sound for miles. The slight brush of the breeze rustling through the canopy of limbs above and all around us; the scurrying feet of a thousand small furry woodland creatures as they went about their simple lives, gathering food and avoiding the larger predators that stalked them daily; the sound of the slowly moving water in the creek beside us as it flowed between muddy banks in its meandering path through the trees. Farther away, the sound changed as the banks widened and the stream ran more shallow, rocks pushing their way up through the surface—I could hear the sound the water made as it broke upon the unyielding stone, forced to separate and go around even as it slowly wore down the obstacle in its path.

And there, where the water ran shallow and sluggish, were the sounds of hooves as they clomped their way across the rocky streambed. The rhythmic thudding of heavy hearts as they pushed thick, hot blood through large bodies.

My eyes flew open in panic, meeting Edward's as the suddenly overpowering thirst fought with the quickly dissolving shreds of reason that still remained to me. I froze, putting every muscle in my body on lockdown as I fought the compulsion to run, to attack, to kill.

"It's all right. Trust me, Isabella. Just wait for the breeze—what do you smell?" His hands were firm on my shoulders, his eyes steady on mine—holding and grounding me as I tried to work up the courage to breathe in. Every cell in my body yearned toward the wet pumping that now drowned out every other sound in the entire world, vibrating like a divining rod pointed straight at the mother of all underground springs. My control was slipping, the red haze of the bloodlust fighting to slip over my mind.

"Breathe, Isabella." Edward's voice was firm—and as usual, I found myself unable to resist his command.

At first he was the only thing I could smell, warmth and sunshine and honey. But beyond that…there was the rich, moist scent of the earth underneath our feet, the tangy bite of the evergreens that towered all around us, the warm, almost nutty scent of the small wildlife with their frantically beating little hearts. And further out, the clean smell of the water as it flowed downstream…leading to another warm scent, this one much more powerful than the others. This was pungent, rank, bitter; certainly not human, and distinctly unappealing. And yet…the way that it melded with the powerful heartbeats, twined around and through the rhythmic pulsing as gallons of warm, syrupy blood coursed its way through veins and arteries…

My breathing halted again, the last frail bit of my self-control keeping me firmly planted in front of Edward, my tortured gaze fixed on his. _Not human. Not human. Not human._ But even with that mantra echoing through my mind, I couldn't seem to bring myself to move. _Not human. Not human. Not human._ I was fighting against the instincts that were pulling me toward that heavenly sound, and that suddenly not so objectionable smell. _Not human. Not human. Not human._ But the last time I gave myself over to the thirst, to the hunt, it almost destroyed me.

I was being torn in two. The largest part of me demanded that I run, drink, satisfy the baking thirst that engulfed my body and devoured my mind. But there was still some faint dissenting voice, warning of the dangers should I let go and allow myself to become that instinctual being that gave not a thought nor a care to anything other than survival. I knew what it was to be so out of control, unable to stop myself from committing the most heinous acts imaginable. And somehow that tiny, insubstantial voice was keeping the monster at bay, holding me immobile while I burned.

Edward's eyes never left mine as he took a single step back, letting his hands fall from my shoulders. "It's all right. I won't let anything happen. Just trust me, and let yourself go." And with that, the last single remaining thread of sanity broke and I was running.

It was just like before: the frenzy overtaking me as I burst out of the trees and fell on the nearest warm body, the feel of my teeth as they slid easily through skin and fat and sinew, the warmth of the blood as it poured down my throat and soothed the raging fire.

And yet…

Even as I drank, the differences began to break through to my crazed mind. This body was much larger, the blood sour and bitter in my mouth. But still, it was hot and wet and plentiful, even if it was vile and somehow unsatisfying. When at last it began to slow down to a trickle, I had regained my senses enough to finally look at the creature I had just drained. Even so, it still took a full second for my mind to grasp what I was seeing. What it meant.

The cow elk lay crumpled at my feet, fur wet and matted with blood from the gaping wound at the base of its neck. Its blood had been absolutely disgusting—like drinking a liver and onion milkshake—but had still managed to take the edge off the raging fire in my throat. A fire that continued to burn, although it was muted now; manageable. Holy…this was what he meant, wasn't it? The other way. Animals. I never would have imagined...yet it should have been obvious, shouldn't it? After all, blood was blood. And just like a big, juicy hamburger tasted a thousand times better than the same thing made with ground turkey, human blood would be far superior to anything else. But you could still live on the turkey if you so chose. Hell, how many people gave up meat altogether and lived off those nasty veggie-burgers? Was this really so much different?

I could feel Edward behind me—still, silent, watching—and I wanted to turn to him, throw myself into his arms and never let go. Because I could keep him now, couldn't I? My beautiful, amazing, brilliant boy had found a way for me to stay with him. I could do this. I could drink this vile, revolting animal blood. I could live with the constant aching thirst that the elk I had just drained had only soothed rather than satisfied. I could spend an eternity denying my instinctual craving for human blood, if he was my reward.

But right now…right now, I was still thirsty. I knew that if I looked, if I even took one small peek at Edward in all his half-naked glory, all thoughts of feeding would evaporate like so much smoke on a windy day. And I wanted this done and over with. I didn't want to be back out here tomorrow, hunting these stinky beasts again because I hadn't fully sated myself. No, I had other plans for tomorrow. Plans that involved a certain bronze-haired Adonis and a bed. Actually, the bed was optional; the floor worked just as well. Or the wall. Or maybe a table, or…oooh, the shower was fun, we could do that again…

Giving myself a quick mental shake, I snapped myself out of it and focused back on the task at hand. Drink now, worship the most perfect body ever created later. I could hear the remaining elk crashing through the underbrush as they ran from the stream, could smell the bitter aroma of the blood pumping through their terrified bodies. And this time, I didn't fight my instincts. I let myself go, and I gave chase.

For all their massive size, the elk were no match for my supernatural strength and speed. It was a messy business, however, and somewhere in the back of my mind I had the thought that I would need to learn an easier way to do this. If Edward could dispatch 4 grown men in a matter of minutes, with nothing to show for it other than a few drops of blood, then surely I should be able to take down an elk without painting the forest red. Not that I had any desire to watch him hunt his own food, but maybe he could give me some pointers so that I didn't waste so much.

Only after I had left 2 more animals drained and discarded on the ground did I pause once again. I was still thirsty, still felt unsatisfied, but I honestly didn't know if my body could hold any more liquid. I was very full, much more so than I had been after feeding off the 4 humans; so I decided that, thirst notwithstanding, it was probably time to quit.

I turned, feeling the smile spread across my face as I found Edward right where I knew I would. Even through the haze of blood and thirst that had settled over me while hunting and feeding, I had been acutely aware of his presence nearby at all times. Out of my way, careful not to interfere, yet close enough to intercede in case something went wrong. Protecting me. Keeping me safe, not only from the handful of beings in the world that had the capability of causing me harm, but also from my own nature. I knew beyond a doubt that if I had caught even a whiff of human scent while in the grip of the bloodlust, I would not have been able to turn away from it. I would have given chase, all my instincts focused solely and completely on bringing down my prey. He was protecting me from myself, more than anything else.

Maybe it should have rankled, that he felt the need to watch over me. As somebody who had spent most of my life being the responsible one, perhaps I should have balked at the very idea that I couldn't take care of myself, that I needed protection. But instead it made me feel sort of soft and mushy inside. All warm and safe and cared for. I shook my head as my smile widened even further. Who knew I could be so disgustingly gooey and romantic?

Something in Edward's demeanor kept me from launching myself at him and having my way with him right there on the layers of moss and fir needles that carpeted the forest floor, but not even his carefully neutral expression could suppress the laughter that bubbled up from my chest as I practically floated toward him.

For the first time since I had found myself in the middle of a circle of blood and death, I was happy. Truly happy. The sword of Damocles had been hanging over my head for so long, and just when I had accepted my fate, when I had been prepared for the sword to finally fall…it was gone. Poof. Disappeared, as if it had never existed, and its absence left me feeling light as air as I came to rest in front of my future. My everything. My Edward. Because he _was_ mine. Mine to touch. Mine to hold. Mine to keep, forever and ever and ever. Mine, mine, mine.

Unable to hold back any longer, I threw my arms around him as another peal of laughter rang through the air. "Thank you. Thank you so much." My lips peppered kisses all across his bare chest, his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. "How did you even…you know what? It doesn't matter. You're amazing. You're brilliant. You…you…" My arms wrapped around his neck now as I rose up onto my toes, my hands in his hair pulling his face down so that I could reach his lips. "You're incredible. Wonderful. Brilliant. Wait, I already said that, didn't I?" I was mumbling now, barely getting the words out between fervent kisses.

Every inch of me was pressed against him, practically climbing inside his skin as I tried to get as close as possible. My teeth nibbled at his perfect bottom lip, my tongue reaching out to sweep across it before I angled my head, trying to deepen the kiss. Which is when I first began to notice something wrong. He wasn't kissing me back. His lips were soft underneath mine, but instead of moving with me they were still and unresponsive. His hands on my hips weren't pushing me away, but they weren't pulling me closer, either. They were just…there.

I pulled back, brow furrowed in confusion, then gasped.

Bright red smears stood out it stark contrast to the pale alabaster of his skin, as if someone had loaded a brush with crimson paint and proceeded to swipe it across the snowy perfection of a new canvas, over and over again. Swirls and streaks followed the paths my lips and fingers had taken, and a good portion of his chest and stomach had been sponge-painted where my shirt (well, his shirt) had been smashed between our bodies.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was so…wow, I guess I really made a mess, didn't I?" I had been so caught up that I hadn't even noticed the blood that seemed to cover almost every square inch of my body. I suppose it was an improvement over my last attempt at feeding; at least there were no bits of flesh and skin attached to me this time. But blood—of that there was plenty. It was still strange to not feel the hot rush under my skin turning it beet red as I contemplated the picture I must make right now—hair tangled and matted, clothing rumpled and torn, looking as if I had just climbed out of a vat of blood. Gah! No wonder he didn't want me touching him!

"No, you're fine." He responded. His voice sounded a bit off, but I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong. _Of course you know what's wrong, you idiot. You look like you just climbed out of a bad horror movie, you smell like you've been rolling around in pond scum, and you just threw yourself at him! Could you be any more repulsive right now?_

"No, really, I'm so sorry." I rambled. "That can't have tasted good, and lord knows I smell awful right now. I shouldn't have launched myself at you like that. I was just so relieved, and grateful, and I didn't think." Looking down, I pulled at the sodden material of his shirt with two fingers. "And I really am sorry about your shirt; what is this, like the third one I've ruined, now?" Dropping my hand, I shook my head as I took another couple of steps back.

"I've told you before, Isabella, it's just a shirt. Why do you insist on worrying so much about things that don't matter? And as for the rest, I said you were fine. But we probably should be getting back to the house. There's a lot to do before we leave."

Dread bloomed, fast and hard, in the pit of my stomach. _No, he can't still mean to…he wouldn't have brought me out here to hunt animals if he still intended on…but what else could he be talking about? No, there must be some other reason we would be leaving. But where would we go?_

"I don't understand?" God, I was saying that a lot, lately. "We aren't still going into the city, are we? I know you still need to eat, but I don't think I'm ready to be around people, yet. Can't I just stay here? I promise not to go anywhere; I won't even leave the house, I swear!" By some miracle I managed to keep my expression even, but I couldn't control the slight tremor in my voice. He heard it—of course he heard it—and was already shaking his head before the last words were out of my mouth.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Christ, Isabella, what did you think this was all about?" He swept is arm out toward the cooling elk carcass still lying where I had dropped it. "You made your point, and quite well. You refuse to be a monster. I get it." Something flashed across his face, there and gone too quickly to identify before the mask slid back into place. "Do you really think that I would put you in a position to do something that would have you running off to die again? That I would give you an alternative, just to take it away in the next breath?"

"No," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I shouldn't have…I just didn't know what else to think." Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I keep doing this? Why did I keep ruining things? Why couldn't I just keep my damn mouth shut for once, and enjoy the moment? _Um, I really don't think it was your fault this time_, my inner voice whispered. _Think about it—he was already acting strange before you ever said a word. There's something else going on here_.

Edward sighed and shook his head, running one hand through his hair forcefully as he looked down at the ground for several seconds. Finally, he shook his head again and looked back up, fixing his gaze just over my left shoulder. "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. For so long, I've had nobody to answer to but myself, and it's still hard to remember that I sometimes need to explain things to somebody else now. And it's even more difficult because it's you. I'm so used to hearing people's thoughts, using them as a guidepost to let me know what to say and what not to say. I always feel like I'm riding blind when it comes to you. Still, that is no excuse, and I should not have snapped at you. Please forgive me."

There was still something off about him; I couldn't quite put my finger on what was wrong, but he seemed somehow distant. Not really angry. Not necessarily cold. But…distracted, maybe? I didn't know what his deal was. Weren't we supposed to be happy right now? Did we, or did we not, just overcome the one major obstacle in our path to a blissful eternity spent wrapped in each other's arms? So why, exactly, was he being all moody?

Obviously, something was wrong. Maybe if I opened up the lines of communication, got him talking, I could find out what. Then we could deal with whatever it was, and get back to the part where we lived happily ever after.

"Okay, I think I can understand that. I didn't realize how difficult it was for you, how much you depend on knowing what everybody else is thinking. But the rest of us don't have that ability, either. I can't read your mind any more than you can read mine; I have to do the best I can with what you tell me, which isn't much. I'm sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion when you said we were leaving; I should have asked what you meant, instead of assuming."

Stepping forward, I lifted one hand so that I could brush the backs of my fingers against his cheek. "Maybe…maybe we can both try to do better? Starting with me asking exactly where it is that we're going? And why?"

If I thought closing the physical distance would help bridge the emotional gap that had somehow opened up between us, I was destined for disappointment. Edward didn't even so much as glance at me, lips twisting themselves into a weak caricature of a smirk as my hand fell back down to my side.

"That's actually not as easy a question to answer as you might think. I don't know where we're going yet—that's one of the things that need to be seen to before we can leave. As for the why…well," and there it was—finally—eye contact, although the expression in his was closed off and unreadable. "I've decided that it's time you met my family."

I might have stumbled back a step or two, if every single muscle in my body hadn't been frozen in shock. It took several tries before I was able to find my voice.

"Your family."

"Yes."

"Vampires have families?"

"Not usually, no."

"But you do."

"Yes."

"And…you want me…to meet them."

"Yes."

"Why?" And now I was completely freaking out. I could see it all playing out in my head: the two of us standing in the perfectly appointed front parlor of some grand manor house, along with an insanely beautiful older couple that were obviously his parents. The man would be a more grown-up version of Edward, suave and distinguished in his dark suit with its perfectly knotted silk tie. The woman would look as if she stepped out of a 50's TV show, complete with perfectly coiffed hair, elegant pearl choker, and mile-high heels. Edward would flash his stunning smile as he pulled me forward and introduced me as his…whatever the hell I was.

"_Mother, Father, I would like to introduce you to my Isabella…How did we meet? Well, she was supposed to be dinner one night—actually she was dessert, I had already eaten dinner—but in the end I decided she made a better sex toy than a meal. Unfortunately, I had already drank too much of her blood by then, and had no choice but to change her into a vampire…Yes, I know you taught me better than to play with my food, but I just couldn't help myself…Thank you for the invitation, but I'm afraid we can't stay for dinner. Isabella is on a special diet, you see; she only eats animals…Yes, you heard me, animals. Apparently she thinks surviving on our natural food source would make her a monster…Yes, I know it's silly, but what can you do?"_

Why? Why was this happening to me? I had no experience with something like this! I never had a boyfriend before; I never even kissed anybody before! And now…now, it's not enough that I'm some kind of defective vampire who can't stand the thought of eating people. OH, NO! I also get to have this insane connection to the one vampire out there who has a family! And now he wants me to meet his parents, and his mother's going to hate me—because no mother ever thinks any girl is good enough for her precious baby boy—and I don't even know what I am to him, and…and…

"Isn't that what one typically does? Take their 'significant other' home to meet the family?" Edward's voice yanked me out of my inner hysterical ramblings, and my wide eyes snapped back up to meet his.

"I wouldn't know; I've never…wait, what exactly do you mean by family? And how come you never mentioned them before? And why did you say that you don't know where we're going, yet?" _He never actually said the word 'parents'. Maybe I'm misreading this whole 'family' thing, and panicking over nothing. People refer to their close friends as 'family' all the time, don't they? I mean, the thought of vampires having families is completely ridiculous, right? Right?_

He shrugged, an impatient frown flitting across his face as he answered my questions one by one. "I mean what one usually means when they talk about their family—father, mother, brothers and sisters. I never mentioned them because the subject hadn't come up before. I don't know where they are living at the moment, which is why I don't know yet where we are going. Now, we really should get back to the house—that stuff is going to be much harder to wash off once it dries."

With that he stepped past me and began to move quickly in the direction I assumed the house was, only to stop several yards away upon realizing that I hadn't moved. With a sigh and a slight shake of his head he turned and made his way back over to me, reaching out with one hand to pull my chin up until he could meet my eyes. "What is it, what's wrong?" His face seemed a bit softer than before, concern etching a small line between his brows.

"I just…what if they don't like me?" My voice was so small that, had he been human, he wouldn't have been able to hear it. But he wasn't, of course, so he did. The frown deepened for just a moment, then was quickly replaced by an expression of dark amusement as he let out a harsh laugh.

"Let me get this straight. _You_ are worried that my family won't _approve_ of you?"

I nodded hesitantly, unsure of just why he found the matter so amusing. I was genuinely terrified, here, and he thought it was funny?

"Isabella, trust me—you have nothing to worry about. They are going to positively adore you. After all, you're everything they could have ever hoped for." Okay, that might have been reassuring—if not for the scornful derision that practically dripped from each and every word, the sardonic twist of his lips as he released me and once again turned to walk away. Why? Why was he always walking away from me right when I needed him the most?

I was overwhelmed by a sense of deja vu as the events from earlier replayed in my mind. The coldness in his eyes, the way he had turned and walked out, leaving me crying on the floor behind him. Damn him! Why could he not seem to make up his mind? His mood swings were giving me whiplash, and I was starting to wonder if I would ever be able to figure him out. Was he the sadistic monster who kidnapped an innocent teenage girl with the intention of terrifying, torturing, and then killing her? Who delighted in my screams as he tore into me? Who watched with a smile as I turned a once peaceful meadow into a brutal killing ground?

Was he the caring lover who whispered sweet words in my ear as he made love to me? Who held and comforted me when I broke down under the weight of my new reality? Who went insane at the very possibility of me leaving him, but then chose to let me go rather than turn me into something I would hate? Who looked into my eyes with such sincerity as he promised to keep me safe, and asked for my trust?

Or was he the unfeeling bastard who turned cold as ice every time I did or said something that displeased him? Who calmly informed me that I was nothing more to him than a warm, willing body and a silent mind? Who walked away without a backward glance as I lay in a crumpled heap at his feet, the echoes of my cries following him out the door? Who was once again turning away, leaving me shattered and broken in his wake?

I pressed a hand tightly against my lips, choking on the sobs that tore up through my chest, doing their best to escape out into the stillness of the rapidly approaching night. I would _not _break down again. I refused to be this weak, sniveling, pathetic mess of a girl whose entire world revolved around whether or not Edward Cullen wanted me. I was better than this. I was strong. I was independent. I was...

I was...

I was lying to myself, and I knew it. Maybe I had been strong once; able to live in my own little world where nothing had the power to destroy me. Where I could walk away from the person I loved most because I was standing in the way of her new life with her new husband. Where I cried into my pillow at night, but during the day never let anyone see the pain, the suffering, the _desolation_ I felt at uprooting my life and exiling myself to the place I detested most in the world. Yes, I used to be that person.

But that was before _he_ had come into my life, tearing apart my world and rebuilding it with him as its center. With one touch, he had captivated my entire being, burying himself so deeply inside of me that the thought of being without him now was utterly inconceivable. It was pathetic, the level of control he had over me. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy; but there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it. Whether I wanted him to or not—whether _he_ wanted to or not—he owned every bit of me. My body, my heart, if there was anything left of my soul—it was all his, and always had been, from that very first night.

So where did that leave me, if he changed his mind?

Closing my eyes tightly, I did my best to even out my breathing and swallow back the strangling sobs that continued to try and push their way past the palm that was still pressed to my mouth. I didn't want Edward seeing me like this, so weak and pitiful. I needed to calm down, try and get control over myself, and work on figuring out what had gone wrong.

I didn't know what had changed in the last hour, but it was glaringly obvious that _something_ had. What could have possibly happened between then and now that would cause him to be so reserved and remote? Was it something I did? Something I said? Did the reality of me standing in front of him, covered in congealing elk blood, bring home to him just how unworthy I was? Was that why the very idea of introducing me to his family was treated with such contemptuous disdain?

When at last I felt that I had myself under some semblance of control, I let my hand fall back down to my side. I was finished with all this uncertainty. I was done crying over something I didn't even understand, through letting myself be intimidated by his unpredictability. I was getting answers, and I was getting them now. And if I didn't like what those answers were, if my worst fears were confirmed and he really did regret saving me…well, then I would just have to deal with it.

Edward was probably halfway back to the house by now, but I wasn't worried about that. Following his scent would be easy enough, and I would rather have the conversation we were about to have in the relative comfort of familiar surroundings, anyway. Still, it rankled that he would just leave me here, after he had been so insistent that I trust him not to let anything happen to me. Where was all that concern now? Were all his declarations so easily forgotten?

With a minute shake of my head, I pushed those thoughts away. Going into this with an antagonistic attitude wouldn't help matters. I would be cool. I would be collected. I would listen calmly to whatever he had to say. And if he wanted to be free of me, then I would walk away with all the grace and dignity I could muster. At least until I was out of sight and earshot.

My posture was already perfect—vampires don't slouch—but the act of straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin still made me feel more prepared for the confrontation to come. Mentally preparing myself for battle, as it were. With a few deep, calming breaths, I gathered up every shred of courage I could muster and opened my eyes to begin the journey back to the house.

I never even took the first step, as the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a pair of matching ones staring right back at me.

How did he keep _doing_ that?

He was giving me a look I had seen before; that one where he was trying to put me together, but just didn't have enough pieces to complete the picture. _Maybe I confuse him as much as he confuses me._

We must have made an interesting visual—both of us disheveled and bloodstained, standing motionless not 20 feet apart as we stared each other down. And just as it had when I watched our reflections in the mirror, the thought that we were a perfectly matched pair flickered through my mind. But were we, really?

"I can't live like this."

You wouldn't think that an already perfectly still body could freeze, but apparently it could. It was an odd juxtaposition—the smooth immobility of his face and body, paired with the seething emotions that radiated from him with such intensity that they almost formed a visible aura. Too late I realized my mistake—the way my words could be misconstrued, especially in light of recent events—and hurried to explain.

"You said earlier that you didn't know what I wanted from you; well you're not the only one who feels that way. Sometimes I wonder if you have multiple personality disorder; one minute you're pulling me in, and the next you're pushing me away, and I don't understand why. I don't understand how you can act like I'm important to you, and then with the next breath it's as if you barely tolerate my existence."

I chewed on my trembling lower lip and pulled in a shuddering breath, squeezing my eyes tightly shut against his devastating beauty as I suddenly found myself fighting the nearly overwhelming urge to throw myself at his feet, begging for any crumbs of affection he saw fit to toss my way. I couldn't keep looking at him if I had any hope of continuing this. He was the most dangerous creature I had ever met, the sheer perfection of his stunning face and gorgeous body dazzling me into near-incoherency.

"If…if you regret saving me…seeing me like this…if you've changed your mind, then just tell me. Don't…don't keep…I won't be an obligation…"

"You think I regret saving you?" I couldn't tell if his voice was incredulous or angry. Maybe both.

"I don't know. It seems like you do." My own voice was barely a whisper, so soft that even with his extraordinary hearing I was almost surprised Edward could hear it from so far away.

"You don't know _anything_." Yes, definitely angry. And somehow that broke through, provoking my own ire as my eyes snapped open, my hands curled into tight fists at my sides, and I took two quick steps forward.

"No, I don't know anything, because you won't tell me anything! Or rather, you keep changing what you do tell me! You say that the only reason you kept me around is because you enjoy fucking me, you call me a whore—and then you hold me close, and you whisper that you need me, that you can't be without me. You claim that you can't bear to cause me pain, but then you turn around and leave me a sobbing, crying mess, walking away and _never once_ looking back.

"You practically tore up half the forest when I was going to leave, and then you were so sad—you looked like _you_ were the one who wanted to die, and I thought…and you brought me out here, and you promised not to let anything happen to me, and I believed…I was so _sure_…"

Edward took a step toward me; but I threw up a hand, palm out, to stop him. "No. I'm not finished. It doesn't matter what I thought, because since then everything you've done, everything you've said has shown me that I was wrong. I don't know, maybe watching me hunt was just too much? Made you realize that this wasn't what you wanted, that _I_ wasn't wha—

"Stop." He was in front of me suddenly, my still outstretched hand sliding up his chest as he moved in even closer, until my entire forearm was pressed tightly against him and my fingers were gripping his shoulder as if they would never let go. "Please, just stop." Pain saturated his voice, burned in his eyes as mine rose unwillingly to meet them. "I know I've hurt you—sometimes purposefully, sometimes unintentionally—and for that I'm sorry. But for the rest of it—for finding you, taking you, keeping you…I'm not sorry for _any_ of that. I never _have_ been sorry; I never _will_ be sorry."

Hands slipped up the sides of my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones before his fingers buried themselves deeply into the tangled and matted mess of my hair. With one last step he closed the remaining distance between us, trapping my arm in between our bodies as he tilted my face up and rested his forehead gently against mine. My eyes fluttered closed as my entire body relaxed against his, helpless to resist the magnetic pull he exerted over me.

"Don't you understand?" Tilting my head back even further, he brushed his nose against mine, our foreheads still pressed together. I could feel his breath against my skin, and unconsciously breathed in deeply, pulling in his essence until I could feel it permeating every cell of my body. "How can you not realize? How can you ever think, even for one moment, that I don't want you?"

Soft as the brush of a feather, I felt lips skim gently across mine. Nearly as insubstantial as wisps of smoke, light kisses trailed along my jaw line and up to my ear, slipped across my cheekbone, skimmed down my nose until his lips came back to rest against mine, our foreheads once again pressed together.

"Don't you know that you're everything?"

Lips against mine, more insistent now, forestalling any reply I might have made. One hand remaining in my hair; the other slipping down to my waist, arm wrapping around it to pull me in even closer. Every part of me burning, electricity humming through my body as I press tightly against him. My hand slipping from his shoulder, curling around his neck, tangling into his hair as I pull myself up into his hard body. Somehow my other hand joining it, both arms now wrapped around his neck as my tongue pushes its way into the warm, sweet cavern of his mouth. His pushing back—smooth, slippery, wet—as his arm pulls me up, off my feet until my legs lift and wrap themselves around his waist.

The touch of his lips, the press of his body against mine, was insistent without being urgent. The most amazing, most intense kiss of my life—all of which had been with him—and a kiss was all it was. There was no frantic need to feel bare skin against bare skin, to have him push his way inside me until I could feel every inch of him buried deep. It was enough to be wrapped around him, to have him holding me close as his fingertips brushed gently against my face. It was enough to know that he was finally letting me in, and that for this one glorious moment there were no walls, no masks, no distance between us.

Later, when we were back at the house, we would have to talk. There were still so many things that needed to be said, explained, discussed. So many things that I needed to know, starting with just how he ended up with a family, and why introducing me to them seemed to provoke such a reaction from him. But all of that could wait.

Right now there was only him, only me; only the slow glide of his tongue in my mouth, the gentle tug of his fingers in my hair, the firm press of his hips against mine. Everything I ever wanted, ever needed, was right here in my arms. I had always known that I was his, completely and irrevocably. But now I finally understood something else.

He was mine, too.

* * *

So, this was supposed to be the end. Ha-ha.

One of the reasons that I hated my first attempt at writing this chapter is because the whole thing seemed too forced. I was trying to tie up too many loose ends, to wrap everything up in a neat little package, and it just wasn't working out. There's so much more to this story than I first realized, and I've finally come to grips with the idea that my original story arc is going to have to be revised. The end, as it turns out, is not the end at all.

I am not going into this with a "I'll take this wherever it leads me" attitude. There is a plot, and a basic outline, and a specific ending in mind (a real ending this time, I promise!). However, I have no idea how long this is going to end up being. If I had to guess, I would say about 10 chapters total, but that is by no means a solid number.

Unfortunately, I can't promise that updates will come any faster. Expect one at the beginning of each month. Yes, I know this is ridiculously slow. I'm sorry. If I could write this stuff any faster, then believe me I would.

Thank you to everybody who has stuck with me so far, I hope you will continue to see this little story through to its (new) conclusion.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N at the bottom.

There are a few lines taken directly from _Twilight_, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

I made the trip back to the house perched on Edward's back, my chin resting on his shoulder and my arms and legs wrapped snugly around his torso. I had refused to let him put me down, only grudgingly allowing myself to be twisted around so that I was clinging to his back rather than his front. Aside from the fact that I didn't want to let go, I was terrified of allowing even the slightest bit of distance between us. I was afraid that if we broke contact, then he would pull away from me again. Afraid to give those walls even the tiniest sliver of an opportunity to come back up.

As we ran—or rather, as Edward ran and I clung—I contemplated all the events of the day. So much had happened in such a short amount of time; a thousand and one different emotions, ranging from deepest despair to giddy elation. And I thought about how quickly the meaning of a word can change. Or...not so much that the meaning had changed, but that my perception of it had been substantially and permanently altered.

Mine.

From the moment during that very first night when I had looked up and seen Edward framed between my legs, hard and hungry for me, I had claimed him as my own. I wanted him, and he wanted me, and therefore he was mine—just as I was his. It was as simple as that.

Only now, with his earnest words still reverberating through my head, did I realize how one-dimensional that feeling had been. It was like admiring a pretty Thomas Kinkade print, and then turning around only to come face-to-face with a Monet. The Kinkade is lovely to look at, but the Monet has a majesty and power that bring out emotions you never knew you could feel just from looking at paint on canvas. Okay, that comparison kind of sucked, but I didn't have the incentive to try and think of a better one. _I_ knew what I meant.

The fact was, just as I hadn't known the true meaning of pain until I had spent an eternity burning in the blackest pits of Hell, I also hadn't fully understood the concept of belonging to somebody else until Edward spoke those six little words that tilted my world on its axis, erasing everything I thought I knew while at the same time granting what I had barely dared hope for. Only now did I truly comprehend the difference between laying claim to something, and having it freely given. The difference may seem little enough—a small issue of semantics, even. But it wasn't. It was huge. Massive. World-altering.

_Don't you know that you're everything?_

Over and over I replayed that moment, reliving it again and again as I tucked my face into Edward's neck and breathed him in. Maybe I was reading too much into it...but really, how could that be possible? It's not like it was something that could be easily misunderstood. _I want you _and _I need you_ could be turned this way and that, picked apart and examined, analyzed to death and taken in any number of ways. But you tell somebody that they're _everything_, and there's not much room for interpretation. It is what it is, and that's all that it is. And what it meant is that this beautiful, mercurial, passionate, infuriating, moody, amazing vampire...was mine.

_Mine_.

* * *

I showered by myself this time, reluctantly letting Edward lower me back down to the floor so that he could clean up some of the mess in the bedroom. As difficult as it was to let him go even for those few short minutes, I understood that it was necessary. I didn't feel completely comfortable anywhere else in the house—or outside of it—and his…_our_…bedroom really wasn't fit for habitation at the moment. And I had the feeling that I would need every scrap of safety and comfort that I could gather in preparation for the conversation we were about to have.

And although I was loath to admit it—even to myself—I could use a few minutes alone. My epiphany on the way home had left me feeling like a bit of a hypocrite, and I needed some time to come to grips with my own contributions to this gigantic mess we had made. I had accused Edward of not telling me anything, but was I really any better? I continually hid my thoughts and fears from him, not wanting to rock the boat, while inwardly I had planned and schemed about how I would leave.

If I had just been honest from the beginning, when I first realized that I couldn't live the life Edward had planned out for me, then maybe everything wouldn't have gotten so damn screwed up. Maybe we could have talked things over, instead of sinking to threats and ultimatums. Maybe the forest wouldn't have a newly acquired bald patch marking the scene of the most epic temper tantrum of all time. Maybe we'd be in this damn shower together, playing and kissing and doing all sorts of naughty, delicious things to each other. Because, yeah, this showering alone thing sucked.

The clothing I came home in went directly into the garbage, and after I had finished scrubbing all the blood, dirt, and debris off, I once again donned the robe that had been left hanging on the hook over the door. Opening the door, I found Edward standing on the other side, looking oddly hesitant as his hand hovered near the vicinity of the doorknob. We stood there awkwardly for several moments, neither of us quite sure what to say as his hand hung there in the air between us. Finally he made to lower it, before reversing course and bringing it up to rake through his hair.

"I, uh, it's pretty much a total loss, but I fixed what I could." His eyes flashed between my face and the floor, and for some reason I had the strange certainty that he would be blushing if he were capable. "I should probably get cleaned up…if you're finished?"

"Um, yeah. It's all yours." I stepped aside so he could come in, then quickly rushed through the door and pulled it shut behind me before I could think too much about what he was about to do in there, and how much I wanted to be a part of it. Then I looked up, and the sight that greeted me managed to pull my thoughts away from Edward and his strange behavior.

Standing there in the doorway, I blinked a few times at the transformation that had occurred.

Most of the feathers were gone, as were the splintered remains of much of the furniture. The mattresses had been pulled off the lopsided bed frame, and now sat halfway across the room, in the area that had suffered the least amount of damage. Perfectly made up, with the remaining pillows stacked neatly at one end, it looked a bit like a serene little life raft in the midst of the wildly crashing waves of a stormy sea. I hoped that it would live up to the visual, being a place where we could be calm and rational in the midst of the seething emotional maelstrom that typified most of our relationship.

The thought brought me up short, and I took a moment to mull it over. A relationship. Was that what this was? It didn't seem like quite the right word, but I really couldn't think of any other way to define it. Except maybe as two individuals who shared an insane attraction, had intense but confusing feelings for each other, and exhibited alarming signs of having a dangerously codependent, symbiotic relationship...and there was that word again.

Deciding that we could work on defining our…_relationship_…later, I glanced around for some idea of what I should do with myself for the next several minutes. For half an instant I imagined myself tossing the robe aside and reclining back on the bed to wait for my lover to join me, but just as quickly I pushed the thought away. Aside from the fact that I was nowhere near brave enough to pull something like that off, I knew that we still needed to talk before anything else happened. So instead I headed to the closet to find something to wear. Now that I was capable—with careful movements and extreme effort—of dressing myself, lounging around in nothing but a robe seemed incredibly lazy. And besides, it would probably be safer if I were fully clothed by the time Edward reemerged.

After pulling on fresh jeans and a blue waffle-knit shirt, I spent a few minutes wandering around the bedroom and mentally preparing myself. Not only because I was finally going to get some answers, but also because I was slowly coming to grips with the realization that it was past time for me to come clean about some of my own issues and fears. I couldn't very well demand full disclosure from him if I wasn't willing to lay myself out there, as well. And if today had taught me anything, it was that Edward just might be as insecure and confused as I was—and that was actually quite terrifying.

I didn't have a clue what I was doing, knew absolutely nothing about life as a vampire, and depended on him completely. He had called me a newborn, and the term was quite accurate. I truly was like a newborn baby—uncertain in my body and without control of my emotions and impulses—and I needed for him to be strong and sure as he taught me all the things I needed to know. The thought of Edward as being vulnerable, unsure…it was downright frightening.

Frightening…and yet somehow…

Hearing the bathroom door open behind me, I quickly turned to go to him; wanting to once more have his strong arms wrapped around me, keeping away my insecurities and doubts. However, once I caught sight of him standing there in the doorway, all my intentions were forgotten. I simply stood there, thunderstruck. I couldn't take in the whole picture at once; my brain threatened to shut down from stimulation overload. Instead all the little details registered separately, like snapshots that could later be pieced together to form a larger picture.

Pale, wet skin glistening in the weak moonlight that filtered through the window…beaded droplets of water dripping from darkened hair, landing on strong shoulders before slipping down…white towel slung around slim hips, accentuating the clear definition of the stomach muscles just above it…gah. David could go hang himself, because as the supposed epitome of male perfection he was sorely lacking. Michelangelo was nothing but a no-talent hack, if that poor example of human mediocrity was the best he could do. Edward, now…Edward was…_divine_.

My mouth was dry, my breath stopped in my throat. All thoughts of talking, and confessions, and clearing the air—they all evaporated into thin air before my eyes even fully registered what they were seeing. My fingers tingled with the desire to touch, to trace the shimmering paths the water drops had made down Edward's hard chest, along his perfectly rippled stomach, disappearing under the edge of the towel. My lips ached to kiss away every bit of moisture, then follow the path my fingers had taken with my tongue, pulling the towel away and sinking to my knees—

My breath escaped in a soft gasp, and I finally raised my eyes to Edward's as I struggled to put away the images that had suddenly taken over my mind. His jaw was tight, eyes darkened with want as he took in my blatant ogling, and I thanked the heavens that he couldn't hear the thoughts that had been running through my head just moments before. How…how was I supposed to talk seriously when he stood there looking so sinfully beautiful, so absolutely delicious that all I longed for was to throw myself into his arms and let him do whatever he wanted to me? I couldn't; it was impossible. I needed…I needed to quit looking, was what I needed to do. Now. Aaannnndd…now. Seriously, I needed to just close my damn eyes…but I didn't seem to have control over those particular muscles, anymore. Or over any muscles, for that matter…

Oh, fuck; the towel was moving—and so was Edward. Closer…silent, predatory, purposeful…closer still…Breathe, Bella! Oh yeah, I didn't need to do that, anymore…

He was only a few feet away when I finally managed to wrestle control of my traitorous body back from my sex-crazed libido. Closing my eyes against temptation, I took a quick step backward as I pressed my hands to my temples and gave my head a small shake. "Talk," I chanted silently to myself. "Talk. Questions. Answers. Explanations. Discussion. Talking is good. Talking is important. Talk. Now."

Reasonably sure that my sanity had once again reasserted at least a tenuous hold over the rest of me, I opened my eyes…only to have my breath stop once more. But not in a good way.

Cold…smooth…expressionless…_familiar_…then nothing, as he turned on his heel and headed quickly toward the closet. No. He thought I was…no.

"No."

The word was barely louder than a breath, but it was enough to make Edward hesitate just outside the closed door. Just for an instant, just long enough for me to reach him—crashing into his back as I wrapped my arms around his bare torso from behind. I couldn't let him walk away again. I couldn't let him think I was pulling away, when nothing could be further from the truth. I needed to make him understand, but how could I explain something that I didn't fully comprehend myself?

"No," I repeated, still little more than a whisper. "Please, I wasn't…I didn't mean…" I buried my face between his shoulders, vaguely remembering to be careful, not to squeeze too tightly, as I pulled his rigid body back against mine. "Please, don't. I can't take…you can't keep walking away from me."

Edward sucked in a harsh breath, making a hissing sound as his lungs expanded under my hands, pressing his body outward against me as I fought the urge to tighten my grip. "I'm not the one who keeps walking away." His words were spoken just as quietly as mine had been; but where mine had been desperate and pleading, his had a hard edge of anger, and something else that sounded almost like…despair? Hopelessness? I couldn't quite decipher it, but whatever it was cut straight and true, leaving me bleeding and remorseful.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Unable to help myself, I allowed my arms to tighten just the slightest bit as I spread my hands wide against his still damp skin, pulling him as close as I dared as I laid desperate, open mouthed kisses across his back and shoulders. "I won't go. I'm here. I'll stay." Turning my face to the side, I closed my eyes as I pressed my cheek to the dip between his shoulder blades. A bit of the rigidity left Edward's still body, and his head tipped backwards the slightest bit, but other than that he didn't move. I tried to take comfort in the thought that at least he wasn't pulling away, but all I could focus on was the fact that the wall was back up, and it was my fault. I needed to fix it. And with that thought, the floodgates opened; spilling out everything I hadn't been able to figure out how to say.

"Everything about this scares me. I know I keep messing up, and doing the wrong thing; but I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm supposed to act. I don't know how to be dependent; I've always been the one who took care of things. Renee...my mom...she always said that I was born thirty-five, and just got more middle aged every year. But _someone_ had to be the adult, and it wasn't going to be her. Not that she's a bad mom or anything; she's great. But she's...very young for her age, and impulsive, and irresponsible, and slightly eccentric. I learned early that if the bills were going to be paid, I needed to do everything but sign the checks. If I wanted to eat anything other than take-out, then I needed to do the grocery shopping. And I didn't mind, doing all that kind of stuff. I made me feel like I had a purpose, like I was useful."

Edward hadn't moved so much as a muscle, but still I could _feel_ him listening, as if every cell of his body was tuned to the sound of my voice. "In the summers, I'd come stay with Charlie...my dad...and things were different, but not completely. I still did most of that stuff, but it was more because I was used to doing it than anything else; he did manage to survive ten months out of the year without me there to take care of him. But still...I was pretty much responsible for myself."

With my eyes closed, I once more turned my face so that my forehead was pressed against Edward's back, feeling my lips brush against his skin with every word and every breath. Yet again fighting off the compulsion to squeeze, I took a deep breath before continuing.

"But that life, it's gone now. That person doesn't exist anymore, and I'm still trying to get used to who I am now.

"I don't think I had ever felt as helpless, as…powerless…as I did when I found myself blindfolded and tied up in a strange bed. But even then, I still had control over my own mind, my own body. But ever since I woke up like this, I feel like everything is so _out_ of control.

"I have a hundred thousand different things running through my mind at any given second, and I can't ever seem to keep my focus on anything for more than a few moments before something else is coming along to distract me. I have all these strange feelings, and urges, and I don't know how to fight them. And part of me is always arguing that I shouldn't fight them, that they are all part of me—of my nature—now, and that I should just let myself go. But then I remember how quickly everything can go wrong, and I try harder to keep it all together…"

And almost before the first quiet sob could escape, I found myself wrapped tightly in strong arms, my face pressed up against Edward's chest as I struggled to continue. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm supposed to feel…all I know is that I need you. So much that it terrifies me. And sometimes I think you need me, too; but other times…" Another soft cry tried to escape, and I bit my bottom lip to hold it back. But then my chin was caught in a firm grasp, pulling my face up as a thumb pried my lip out from between my teeth. And then Edward's mouth was slanting itself over mine, gentle but insistent as the fingers of his other hand slid into my hair to grasp the back of my head and hold me still for him.

I don't know how long I stood there letting him kiss me, luxuriating in the feel of his soft lips as they pressed and pulled and slid against mine. When his tongue came out to lick gently at my abused bottom lip, I opened to him without hesitation, inviting him into my mouth as one of my hands reached up to curve around the back of his neck. I let out a quiet moan when he tightened his grip on my chin, angling my face farther so that his tongue could push more deeply inside.

He tasted so good, like honey and vanilla and sunshine, and I sighed my appreciation as my own tongue stroked and slid against his. Everything else—families, feeding, fears—disappeared in a haze of arousal when he used his grip in my hair to pull my head backward, dragging his mouth away from mine to lay hot little licks and kisses along my arched neck. I cried out when teeth nipped at my earlobe, gasped and panted when he pulled the collar of my shirt to the side so that his tongue could trace along the ridge of my collarbone.

All the while his hand stayed buried in my hair, pulling and twisting me into whatever position suited him best. When he finally released his grip, it was only long enough to pull my shirt off over my head; then he was on me again, our bodies colliding as his mouth once more claimed mine, tongue plunging deep. What had started off as gentle and reassuring had become an almost frenzied devouring, soft rumbles emanating from deep inside Edward's chest as he rubbed up against me.

The sudden electricity of so much bare skin pressing together was what finally shocked some sense back into my addled brain, and with a soft cry I pulled my mouth away, throwing my head back and panting as I tried to remember why this wasn't a good idea.

I was acutely aware of the way our bodies were pressed against each other, so tightly that I could feel every inch of the rigid length that pushed against my stomach. The realization pulled a low groan from the back of my throat, and Edward responded with a moan of his own as he sucked gently on the sensitive skin just beneath my ear.

"Oh, God," I breathed. "Edward…" My hands clenched into fists, and I was somehow unsurprised to find that they had found their way up into his hair. That seemed to be their favorite place to be, almost as if they belonged there.

"Hmmm?" One hand slid down the bare skin of my back, slipping just under the waistband of my jeans and pulling me even closer against him. I let out a strangled-sounding gasp as the movement caused my aching breasts to press even more firmly against the hard planes of his chest. I was aflame, every inch of me burning as lips trailed liquid fire down the side of my neck and along my shoulder.

"Edward…" I tried again. I couldn't remember exactly why I needed to get his attention; just that it was something important.

"What, Love?" His voice was husky as he took advantage of my posture to nuzzle the underside of my jaw, alternating the sharp sting of nipping teeth with soothing swipes from a warm tongue.

To hell with it—whatever it was, it could wait. Using my grip in his hair to pull his face back up to mine, I crashed my lips into his in a kiss so searing and desperate it had my toes curling and my insides clenching down around empty space. I could dimly hear my own needy whimpers as I tried to climb up his body, aware of nothing but the need to have my legs wrapped around him, to have that pulsing hardness pressed up against the part of me that ached and yearned for him.

Realizing my intention, Edward slid his hands down to cup my ass, pulling me up hard against him as my legs lifted and wound themselves around his waist, my foot dislodging the towel as I cried out at the feel of him finally coming to rest dead center between my thighs. And even through the haze of pleasure, something about that resonated dimly inside. Something about the towel…

With a quick movement of my head, I tore my lips away from his. "Edward," I panted out. "Edward, we need to stop. We shouldn't be doing this right now. We…we're supposed to…supposed to be…ahhhhh…"

His mouth, deprived of mine, had once again descended to my neck, where it resumed its maddening attempt to drive me insane. "Shhhh," he mumbled against skin that was wet from his attentions. "We can talk later. Right now I want you." One of his hands left my ass, sliding up my side until it was cupping my breast. And when he lowered his head, taking the hard tip into his mouth to be licked and suckled, I lost all ability to string together a coherent sentence.

"B-b-but we n-need…oh…w-we should…ah God!"

"Later."

"But—"

"Isabella," Edward growled, and the last remaining bits of my sanity and resistance melted away at the sound. Letting my head fall back, I gave myself over to just feeling, barely registering my own cries of pleasure as his mouth once again wrapped itself around a hard peak. Heat flooded through me and my hips jerked as the licking and suction resumed. It was as if there was a live wire running from my nipple straight down to the ache between my legs, and every strong pull of his mouth jerked it tighter; every hot lick of his tongue sent an electric surge pulsing through it.

My legs tightened, and I felt a sharp gasp against my breast as his hips jerked against me, sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure straight up through my body and back into his mouth. I cried out at the feeling, writhing in his grasp as my hands left his hair to grip his shoulders—hanging on for dear life as I arched back, pushing my chest more firmly against his mouth. He froze for a second, pulling back the tiniest bit. "Shit, are you…?"

I whined at the loss of contact, one hand going to his head to pull him back to me. "Please," I whimpered, "please, don't stop!" He dove back in with a groan, one hand moving up to press between my shoulder blades, the other sliding over my other breast to pinch and play with that nipple.

My eyes were clenched shut, my mouth open as the waves of feeling washed over me faster and harder, pushing me higher and tighter with every passing moment. I think I may have been crying, but I couldn't hear it over the pounding in my head. Everything was swirling, shaking—and then Edward's mouth was suddenly on the other side, and a moment later he had switched hands and was rolling and twisting the rock-hard bit of flesh that had been left wet and throbbing, and every muscle in my body froze.

I was there…right there…pulled so tight I was about to snap…

Then teeth gently bit down at the same moment that fingers pinched hard, and I broke.

I was screaming, and drowning, my entire body shaking uncontrollably as the waves alternately tossed me up and pushed me under. At some point I realized that my hands were no longer gripping Edward's shoulders, and were instead tangled in my own hair—pulling hard until I was bent so far back it was a wonder I didn't break right in half.

I felt sharp teeth still tugging at my nipple, followed by gentle licks from a soft tongue—and I tried to tell him to stop, that I couldn't take anymore, but I couldn't make the words come out.

"No, no…please, no more…" I finally managed to gasp, and shivered from the sudden loss of sensation when he instantly pulled away.

One hand stayed firmly planted against my upper back, while the other went to my hair, gently untangling my own hands before pulling me up to look at him. So gently, in fact, that I was unprepared for the sight that greeted me when I managed to open my eyes.

His own eyes were wide and wild, every muscle in his face pulled tight with the effort he was using to keep control. And just like that, I was right there again with him—wanting nothing more than to see that control break, to shatter it into so many pieces that he would never be able to put it back together.

I threw myself against him, his arms coming up around me as the impact knocked him back a step. Little zings of electricity shot through me from where my over-sensitized nipples were crushed against his chest, and I flinched from the sensation even as I rubbed against him in search of more. So good…everything was just so, so good. And it was never enough, even when it felt like too much.

Edward pulled his mouth from mine, abandoning my lips to place kisses along my jaw line until he reached my ear, where he lightly licked along the outer edge before blowing gently on it. "Do you know how beautiful you are like this?" he breathed. "What it does to me, watching you come apart in my arms, knowing its all for me? Knowing nobody else has ever seen you like this, touched you like this?"

"Edw-" was all I managed before he took my breath away—his lips on mine again, pushing them apart and diving in…and it was all teeth and tongues and hot and wet and wild and desperate. His hands were everywhere at once, sliding across my back, running through my hair, pushing between our bodies to stroke my quivering stomach, then traveling down over my hips before gripping my thighs and pulling me tighter against him. I squirmed when I felt the pressure between my legs increase; it was almost to the point where it felt like he was going to tear right through the jeans that were the only barrier between us. I bucked against him, and a frustrated snarl pierced the air as his hands tightened their grip.

There was a quick rush of air, then I felt myself being tipped backwards as Edward knelt on the bed, crawled his way up it—still firmly lodged between my legs—then lowered us the rest of the way down until my head and upper back came to rest against the pillows that were piled at the top. Our mouths never once parted, our kisses becoming harder and more purposeful—the rhythmic thrusting of tongues matching the steady grind of hips.

I felt Edward's hands between us again, reaching for the button of my jeans, but between the angle I was inclined at and the way we were pressed together, he couldn't quite manage to reach it. Letting out a soft growl he finally tore his mouth from mine, sitting up so he could pop the button and yank down the zipper. "I don't know why you even bother putting clothes on," his voice was somewhere between a whisper and a snarl, and I shivered at the fresh wave of arousal that ran through me as I unwrapped my legs from around his waist. I always loved the sound of his voice, but most especially at times like this—when the usually smooth velvet gave way to gritty roughness.

"You're the one who put them there. You shouldn't have bought them if you didn't want me to wear them."

With barely contained urgency he ripped the pants down my hips, backing down the bed as he pulled them completely off and tossed them into the corner. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I should just burn them all," he muttered as his hands slid from my ankles up to my knees, pushing my legs high and wide as he found his place between them. Holding me there, hands wrapped around the backs of my knees keeping me spread wide open for him, he angled his hips forward until I could feel the tip of him just barely nudging against me.

Then, with one long, slow movement, he was inside. I moaned, and tried to push up against him, but the way he held me prevented me from getting any leverage. Edward's eyes slipped closed, and his head dropped forward as he let out a soft groan. "So good…" he muttered as he pulled his hips back and then thrust forward again, a little harder than before. I let out a gasp and tried again to arch up against him, whimpering in frustration when I still couldn't meet his movements.

Again and again he buried himself, moving harder and faster with each thrust, as he leaned forward to capture my lips once again. Moving faster, nearly in a frenzy now—but never loosening his grip as he held me pinned beneath him. Somehow straddling the line between chaos and control as he pushed me closer to the breaking point with each and every forceful shove of his hips against mine.

Mindlessly I reached out, desperate to feel his perfect body pressed completely against me—wanting to be connected in every way, and not just at hips and lips and hands. But no. At the first touch of my palms against his shoulders, Edward let his hands slip from behind my knees. But instead of letting me go, all it did was free his hands—leaving my legs draped over his arms as he reached back and grabbed my wrists, pushing them down onto the pillows and holding them captive alongside my head as his hips continued their relentless pounding.

"Nooo," I wailed, tossing my head from side to side as my body shook and convulsed with pent-up need. "Please…Baby, please—I need you! Need to feel you…"

"No," he loosened his grip, only to slide his hands up until his fingers were intertwined with mine, palms flush against each other as he pushed my hands deeper into the pillows beside my head. "No, just let me…let me have…just give."

Tossing my head back, my teeth clamped down on my lip to hold back the screams—screams of frustration, of need, of ecstasy, of surrender—but Edward wasn't having any of that, either. With lips and teeth and tongue he pried my mouth open, sucking my lip into his own mouth for a moment before pulling back again. "No, Love. I want to hear."

Steady rhythm twisting me into knots, winding me up and pulling me tight as hoarse cries and sharp screams and unintelligible pleas poured forth. And I didn't remember that I was strong, that I was equal, that I was unbreakable. I was only his, and whatever he asked, whatever he needed, whatever he wanted—I would give.

So I screamed, and I cried, and I begged, and I came—over and over again. Everything he asked for, I gave. And when he asked for more, I gave that, too.

And even through the mindlessness that followed, through the desperation and the fire and the bliss, some small part of my expanded mind was able to stand apart and examine it all. Was able to wonder at the fact that the more I gave, the more full I felt. Not just in _that_ way, but somewhere deep inside—in some unknown, untapped region of my self—I felt complete in a way I never had before. Every piece of myself that I turned over was replaced with something bigger…warmer…_greater_…

Night turned to day, and back to night again; and somewhere along the way ferocity eased into passion, harsh grips into ardent explorations, and raw demands into breathless entreaties.

Eventually, there were momentary periods of quiet; times when the constant craving became more subdued. Gentle touches and soft sighs. The brush of fingertips over the dark wing of a brow. Gentle pressure as a nose skimmed along the ridge of a collarbone. The light press of lips to the hollow at the base of a throat. Comfort and contentment and satisfaction.

It was during one of these serene moments that I nestled my face into the shallow dip under Edward's shoulder, slowly tracing random patterns across his stomach with the hand that wasn't curled up underneath my body. His arm contracted slightly around me, nestling me a bit more firmly into his side, and I felt my lips pull up into a gentle smile against his skin. As heady and addictive as it was to be lost in his body, it was the quiet moments like this that pulled at my heart, that made me ache in a way that was so good I never wanted it to end.

So before soft touches could give way to more purposeful ones, before the ever-present undercurrent of want could once again rise up and gain control, I spoke the words that had been hanging there between us ever since we re-entered the house yesterday evening. I expected to be nervous…agitated…because nothing good has ever come from a conversation that started with those 4 words. But somehow I wasn't. This needed to be done—needed to be brought out into the open and pushed through—if we had any hope of moving forward. I was tired of evasions and uncertainty, was done with secrets and half-truths and silence.

"We need to talk."

A moment of silence; then the softest of sighs as Edward's arm tightened around me once again, followed by a quiet, "I know."

And I'm not certain what I expected, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't it.

As the silence stretched on, I began to wonder if perhaps I had imagined the whole exchange. Could vampires do that? It didn't seem likely, what with the perfect recall and all; but I supposed it was possible that I could have been thinking about it so hard that I just _thought_ I had said the words aloud, and then supplied a suitable response. But wouldn't I have imagined something a little more in character, if that were the case? A calm "I know" certainly wasn't what I would have thought—

Edward's hand in my hair brought my attention back to him, and I looked up to find him watching me carefully as his arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer up against his chest. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my cheek against him as my fingers resumed their wandering path. Yes, I had said it.

I could practically feel his mind working, and as one minute turned into two—then into five—I wondered if maybe he was waiting for me to start. After all, I had been the one to say we needed to talk—didn't that indicate that I had something to say? I opened my mouth, trying to sort through all my questions and decide what to ask first, but a soft voice interrupted me before I could even figure out where to start. "Don't," he whispered. "Just…give me a few minutes."

Time continued to drag on as Edward organized whatever thoughts he had decided to share with me into words, and I did my best not to show how badly the curiosity was eating me alive.

Finally—_finally_—he began to talk.

"I wasn't even hunting that night." His voice was quiet, barely disturbing the dark stillness of the night that had engulfed the room. I knew immediately what night he was referencing, and closed my eyes against the barrage of emotions and images that threatened. I didn't like to think of that night. Well, I did, but not that part of it. Not the part where I had been stalked, and hunted, and herded like a lamb into the killing pen—only to be swooped out from under the noses of my would-be murderers and into the arms of a much more dangerous predator.

But this was what Edward had chosen to tell me, so I did my best to push away the residual fear and sickness, and to focus instead on the sound of his voice.

"I wasn't even thirsty, as I had fed just a few days earlier. I was simply driving through town, and something caught my attention. One of the men following you, I saw you in his mind. He was thinking about what he wanted to do with you, planning it all out while he stalked you.

"I'm not sure why that particular image broke through to me. Over the decades, I've learned to block out most of the thoughts of the people around me. It's like background chatter that never goes away, but eventually you find ways to ignore it—except when somebody thinks my name, or something else that we're conditioned to respond to. That's what the voices are like for me, anymore. But something about his thoughts broke through; maybe it was the murderous tone to them—I'm so used to searching out thoughts like those when I'm hunting, that maybe I just automatically honed in on it…

"But as I said, I wasn't hunting, so I tried to ignore what I had seen and heard. It was none of my business. I told myself that I should just continue on my way—that whatever happened to some nameless child in some back alley was none of my concern. But I couldn't shake the image I had glimpsed of you, and before I had fully realized what I was doing, I found myself honing in on him, heading that direction."

We were both perfectly still now, the motion of Edward's chest as he breathed steadily in and out the only movement in the room. Realizing that I had quit breathing at some point, I made the effort to continue drawing air into my lungs. After a short pause, Edward once again began speaking.

"By the time I arrived, they had you cornered and were closing in. I could hear their thoughts, their excitement, but you were absolutely silent. At first I didn't think anything of it—I assumed that you were just scared out of your mind, and that I couldn't hear you because you were beyond the ability to think.

"But then I saw you for myself, and I saw the wheels turning in your mind as you faced the closest one. You looked terrified, but at the same time so determined and fierce! Like you honestly thought one tiny little slip of a girl had a chance facing down four grown men! I was fascinated, both by your silence and your bravery, and almost before I realized it I found myself moving closer."

Another long silence followed, the relaxed pose of our bodies completely at odds with the tension that permeated the air around us. I had given up on forcing my lungs to work; afraid that even the slight rise and fall of my chest would be enough to break the spell that actually had him _talking_ to me—even if it was about an incident that I would rather not think of.

When he did finally resume, his voice was even softer than before—quiet enough that human ears would not have been able to hear.

"I honestly don't know what my intentions were at that point—if I only wanted a closer look, or if I was going to intercede. I guess it doesn't really matter, because the second I moved closer, I smelled you. And from that moment on your fate was sealed.

"I had never, in all my years, smelled anything so tempting, so delicious. I have always used my gift to choose my meals, always fed on the vilest creatures I could find. I had never tasted the blood of an innocent. I never thought the day would come when I would crave any one particular human to the point where I couldn't resist. But there you were, smelling like my own personal heaven and hell all rolled up into one package, and I knew that I had to have you. There was no possibility of me walking away."

His voice was firmer now; still quiet, but resolute. There was no apology here—only a calm lying out of the facts. For the first time I realized just how hopeless my situation had been; the moment I made an ill-fated decision to round the block instead of merely turning around, the door of fate had slammed shut behind me.

"The only reason you made it out of that alleyway alive was because of those men. By the time I had finished with them I was…satisfied…enough that I could think a bit more clearly. There was still no question that I would have you, but I realized that I could draw it out. I didn't have to drain you all at once; I could make it last, savor each and every drop. If I was already going to break my own rule, I might as well do it thoroughly and wring every last bit of enjoyment out of it that I could.

"I wanted to feel your blood as it rushed beneath your skin, compare the flavor of it at each and every pulse point, and bathe you in it before licking up every last bit off your body. I wanted you afraid, begging and crying and screaming as I bit and ripped and drank. I _craved_ it. Even as a newborn, I had never experienced that level of ferocity, never had the compulsion to inflict pain and suffering as I did that night. I didn't know why I suddenly felt that way, and I didn't care. All I cared about was feeding the craving."

It was all I could do to hold myself still against Edward's side, to not jump up and run away screaming as he calmly detailed all the ways he had intended to torture and hurt me. The things he talked about doing were certainly no different or more painful than what he _had_ done to me, but somehow it was worse, knowing that he had wanted me to suffer—that it had been my pain he craved, just as much as my blood. I hadn't expected that.

"Then I touched you, and it was nothing like I expected. I knew you would be warm and soft, but there was more. Your skin was like silk under my fingers, and the heat was so intense it almost felt like it was burning my hand, but not in a way that was painful. It was…addictive. And suddenly, I didn't want to stop. I wanted to know if every part of you would be so soft, so supple and giving under my touch. And then…then I smelled something new—something stronger than the adrenaline and the fear. I knew what it was; I've experienced it more times than I can count, and it was far from the first time it had been directed at me. But it was the first time I had any reaction to it other than disgust. What I felt this time was the farthest thing imaginable from revulsion.

"The thoughts and images that flooded my mind then—they were things that had been there hundreds of thousands of times before, but that had never been my own. The shift was small, but simultaneously enormous. Suddenly blood wasn't the only reason I wanted my tongue on every inch of your skin, pain not the only sensation I wanted my hands to bring, terror not the only cries I longed to hear from your lips."

I couldn't hold back a gasp at his words, amazed at how closely his thoughts and feelings at the time had mirrored my own. That he had started out feeling and wanting one thing, only to be swamped with all these unfamiliar desires…that he had been just as blindsided by this as I had been.

"In a way, it was a relief to find out that you knew what I was. It gave me an excuse to end things before they got out of hand. I could be merciful, and sane, and avoid acting on these strange new urges that I had no experience with trying to control. But then you looked up at me with those big brown eyes, and you begged me, begged _for_ me, and I found myself unable to resist.

"I lost myself in you—in your silk and your heat and your sweetness—and I soon realized that once wasn't going to be enough. I still needed the feel of you against me, wrapped around me in every way imaginable. So I told myself that I would give myself the night to enjoy your body. One night, and that should be enough to satisfy the craving, and I could finish what I had started. But no matter how many times I had you, it was never enough; the need just seemed to intensify over time, growing stronger with each and every hour that passed. And by the time morning came, I understood that I wasn't going to be able to give you up. I would do whatever it took to keep you with me, no matter the consequences."

And here…here was the real answer to the question I had asked all those days ago—the reason why I was here with him now, why he hadn't drained and discarded me like all the others. Sex and silence had been the reasons he gave me then, and I could see how that could be considered not entirely untrue. But it was so much more than that…

I couldn't hold myself still another moment, and pushed up onto my hands so that I could finally look down at Edward's face. My eyes found his, and they were as guarded as ever…waiting for my reaction. And I knew that what I said or did right now could make all the difference. I searched for the right words—the ones that would bring down another wall instead of causing him to retreat once again behind that icy mask of indifference that came so quickly and easily to him. Before a second had passed I had considered and rejected a dozen possibilities, finally settling on the simplest of questions.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

The wariness was still there, but the set of his jaw and the steadiness of his gaze told me that I had asked the right question. With a sudden motion he sat up, capturing my hands and twining our fingers together. Eyes never leaving mine, he pulled me up until I was sitting on my knees in front of him, our hands resting on his thighs between us.

"Because I need for you to have a reason to stay."

"Then why?" I had vowed to myself that I would not be weak and pathetic, that I would maintain my dignity no matter what, but I found myself unable to keep that promise. I could hear the tremor in my voice, the plaintive tone as I begged for answers. "If all of that is true, then why do you keep pushing me away?"

Edward's eyes closed tightly, his hands squeezing mine as he drew in a sharp breath.

"I don't know how or why, but you've somehow become necessary to me, and sometimes…sometimes I hate you for it.

"I hate the way you swept into my life and took over my world. I hate that I'm so desperate to keep you with me that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you stay. I hate you for being so eager to leave all the time, for finding it so easy to keep walking away, when it breaks me into pieces to see you go. But most of all—"

His eyes opened again, and my breath caught at the confusion and torment that filled them.

"Most of all, I hate that I can't hate you. I want to—for all those reasons and more, I want to so much—but I can't."

We stayed like that, kneeling before each other—hands clasped, eyes locked—for what seemed like and endless amount of time, before I heard my own voice break the silence. I was surprised at how steady and sure it sounded, when inside I felt anything but.

"You stole me." I spoke softly; it was not an accusation, merely a statement of fact. "You took me away from everything I've ever known, and brought me here with the full intention of torturing me before you killed me. You caused me more pain than I ever imagined it was possible to feel. You stripped me of my humanity, and turned me into this…this…bloodthirsty…_monster_. You ripped me away from my family, my friends, my _life_, and made me a murderer."

I half expected him to break eye contact, to flinch away from my words, but he didn't. He remained motionless in front of me, his hands and eyes steady on mine as I laid out his crimes.

"By all rights, I should hate you for what you've done, for what you've taken from me." Finally pulling my eyes from his, I dropped my gaze to our entwined hands. Gently, I disentangled our fingers—then watched as his curled into tight fists the moment they were free. Looking back up, I saw that his eyes were now closed; hiding whatever was behind them from my sight. They flew back open, however, the instant that he felt my fingertips against his cheekbones.

"If I could go back to that night…if I could have stayed home, or continued shopping with my friends instead of wandering off on my own. If I could have turned back around when it started to get dark, or walked in the opposite direction…

"I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't change a thing. And I know what that makes me, but it's the truth. I would do it all again, would give up everything-"

There were no more words that night.

* * *

This story WILL be finished. Some things have happened that have drastically reduced the time I have available to write (which wasn't a whole lot to begin with), but I'm dealing with it. I felt incredibly guilty once I realized I wouldn't be able to get a chapter out last month, so I spent a few hours finishing up a short story that had been sitting in my Word docs since way back in June-if you need a break from the light fluffiness of this story, go check it out (No, that's not sarcasm. It's dark, depressing, and makes this story look like a breezy romp through a sunlit meadow).

As always, I am eternally grateful to everybody who has reviewed-those of you who have been with me from the start, patiently waiting for each chapter, as well as all the new readers who have taken the time to let me know they like my story. You don't know how much your comments mean to me.

Huge thanks go out to DoUTrustMe, whose encouragement and kind words came at a time when I really needed them, and who has been rec'ing my story on Twitter. If you haven't read her story Died And Gone To Heaven, then you are missing out on one of the funniest things I have EVER read. Go read it, you'll be glad you did.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N at the bottom.

Please forgive any errors. It's 4:00 in the morning, and I'm afraid if I don't post this now, I never will. This is sort of a transitional chapter, and transitions have never been my strong point. So if it sucks, that's my excuse.

All the usual warnings apply. I own nothing.

* * *

I'm not always strong

And sometimes, I'm even wrong

But I win when I choose

And I can't stand to lose

But I can't always be

The rock that you see…

_The woman in me_ (Shania Twain)

"Damn it!"

The twisted and mangled remains of what had once been a brush flew across the room, hitting the far wall with a bang and raising a cloud of white dust as it broke through. Great.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm the frustration, I stared in the mirror for a few seconds as my hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. Then, with a final long exhalation, I began picking the little plastic shards out of my hair.

I didn't stop when I heard a door open nearby, or when light footsteps drew near. I kept my focus pinned to my own reflection, doggedly working to clean up the aftermath of my latest mishap.

When another set of hands gently pushed mine away and took over the task, I felt a bit more of the tension leave my body. Closing my eyes, I pushed everything away but the fingers moving through my hair, gently removing the snarls and dropping bits of plastic onto the counter.

"I thought you had things you needed to take care of?" I opened my eyes as I spoke, finding him in the mirror and watching as he removed yet another piece of the brush from a particularly nasty tangle.

"It sounded as if you may have been having some trouble." He didn't look up, but one fingertip brushed softly down my neck as he continued to detangle and smooth, sliding his fingers through each section to make sure all the knots were gone before moving on to the next.

"Hmm." I watched him as he worked, studying his face as I tried to gauge his mood. He didn't _look_ irritated or upset, but something felt just the slightest bit off. I had learned to read the signs of an easy and relaxed Edward, and this wasn't him. It was something in the way he held himself, in the occasional twitch of that little muscle in his jaw, a slight tightness around the eyes.

"Is everything all right?"

He glanced up, catching my gaze in the mirror for the first time since entering the room as a small frown pulled his brows together. "Everything's fine. Why would you ask?"

"I don't know, you just seem a little…" I shrugged a bit, suddenly unsure. "I thought you might be irritated with me, you know, for the wall?" I tilted my head toward the far end of the room, and the hole that marked my most recent fit of temper. "I _am_ sorry, it was just so unexpected, and then I was upset with myself because I should have known it would break, and I lost my temper for a moment. I didn't mean to start destroying another room."

Edward shook his head as he returned his attention to detangling the heavy fall of hair that tumbled down my back. "I'm not upset with you, Love. You haven't done anything wrong." His eyes flicked back up to mine for just a fraction of a second, as one corner of his mouth curled up in a brief smirk. "At least, not today."

He worked in silence for a while longer while I once more watched him, trying to decide if I should push the issue. He obviously didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him…if there even was anything and I wasn't completely off base. Deciding to let it go for now, I let my eyes slip closed once again and just enjoyed his touch. It was so very pathetic how much I missed having him near me, considering he had only been gone for a few hours. Especially since "gone" consisted of a room less than 50 feet away from here. In my defense, he _had_ closed the door behind him when he entered said room…just down the hallway.

"Just out of curiosity—if my hair is so strong that it breaks the brush, how am I supposed to cut it?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that I already knew the answer to my own question. "I can't, can I?"

"No. Just like everything else about us, it's practically indestructible. It's frozen at whatever length it was when we changed; it doesn't grow, and it can't be cut."

Without thinking, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. "Thank God I shaved my legs that morning." Then, realizing what I had just said, I squeezed my eyes even more tightly shut and grimaced. "Oh, God, tell me I didn't just say that."

A light chuckle greeted my words, and my eyes flew back open to find a hint of a smile playing around the edges of Edward's mouth. Mortification…smile. Fair trade.

"So, what's the point of having a brush, if I can't use it? Was it just there to tease me?"

His smile grew a bit larger, and another piece of plastic hit the counter with a light 'plink.'

"No, it wasn't there to tease you. You just need to use your fingers to get all the tangles out first, so there's nothing for it to catch on. Otherwise…well, you saw what happens."

Something about that struck me as odd, and I frowned a tiny bit as I took in his perpetually tousled head—that didn't look like it had ever come within an arms length of a hairbrush. Glancing up, the last remnants of his smile faded and his hands stilled as he took in my expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I shook my head and forced a smile that felt far from convincing, and from Edward's reaction I could tell that it looked as wrong as it felt. "I was just thinking…I mean wondering…you just seem to know a lot about…never mind."

Unable to hold his gaze, I looked down at the counter instead, studying the little bits of debris that littered its surface. I could feel his eyes on me, and I fought to keep my expression neutral, unwilling to show how bothered I was by the train of thought my mind had taken off on. I knew from a few comments he had made that Edward had been around for close to a hundred years, and it was really none of my business what he had done during that time. Of _course_ he knew a lot about things like that; it was laughable to think that someone so insanely beautiful wouldn't have had plenty of opportunities to witness the grooming rituals of the females of his species up close and personal. Witness…participate in…

But knowing how ridiculous it was to be jealous of those who had come before me did nothing to dispel the sick feeling twisting around in my gut. _Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

A sharp jerk on my hair had my head snapping up, wide eyes meeting narrow ones through the silver glass. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is when you do that? If you have something to say, then just say it." He followed his words with another, less forceful, tug on the back of my head, and I scowled at him in response.

"No," I snapped, annoyed. "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all—just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to drive you insane wondering what they could possibly mean…now, why would that be frustrating?"

After a few moments of silence, during which we stared each other down through the reflective surface of the mirror, one eyebrow cocked up quizzically. "Are you finished?"

Argh! "Yes."

With a sigh, he diverted his attention back to my hair and once again began working on smoothing out the tangled mess. "Pity. I was almost looking forward to punishing you again. Although I suppose it's just as well—we don't really have the time for that right now."

"You...you..." I sputtered, at a complete loss.

"Now, Isabella, we've been through this already. You know that I can't read your mind. If you want me to understand you, then you're going to need to use your words. Do you think you can do that for me, Love?" If _his_ words hadn't been enough to push me fully over the edge into outright fury, then the faintly condescending tone of voice that he uttered them in was more than enough to do the trick.

Before I even realized what was happening, I had spun around and shoved a finger into his breastbone, pushing him backwards across the room as I advanced. "Now you listen to me Edward Cullen, and you listen good! I am not a child, and you're not my father, and you do _not_ get to talk to me like that! Maybe all your other girls have let you get away with treating them like children, but if you think I'm going to stand for it, then you can just think again. Punish me? _Punish_ me? Are you serious? This is the twenty-first century, in case you didn't notice, and women don't put up with that kind of behavior anymore. So you can just…you can just…

My words trailed off as my eyes locked onto my index finger still pushing into Edward's chest, common sense and self-preservation making a belated reappearance and slowly overtaking the righteous indignation that had fueled my outburst. What did I…I had just…oh, crap.

I was in _so_ much trouble.

Slowly dropping my hand back down to my side, I risked a quick glance up to gauge just how furious he was with me. I was bewildered, however, at what I _didn't_ see. No anger. No rage. Not even mild irritation. Instead, one corner of his mouth was slightly curled up into what was almost a…smile?

He looked positively…

Smug.

Swimming in confusion, I barely registered the feel of hands on my shoulders turning me around and pushing me back up to the counter. I watched as he calmly resumed running his fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of this sudden change in attitude. Why wasn't he angry? He goes from talking about punishing me, to—when I do exactly what he threatened to punish me _for_—getting all smug and smirky?

Realization dawned when I replayed my little tirade in my head, and remembered exactly what I had let slip. My mouth fell open in shock, and Edward's smirk grew even larger.

"You did that on purpose!"

"Did what?"

"You know what!"

His smile then was wide and brilliant, and I knew I should be angry at the way he had just manipulated me, but all I could be was dazzled. He was just so damn beautiful. Did I mention that I was pathetic?

"I may not be able to read your mind, but I am a fast learner. Experience has shown that you are much more liable to say what is on your mind when you become angry." Why that manipulative little...okay, maybe I could still be angry with him.

"You can't just go around provoking me every time you want to know what I'm thinking, Edward. They're my thoughts, and I'm allowed to keep them private if I want to."

"No." What?

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"Exactly what I said. No. If something is troubling you, then I need to know what it is. And if you won't tell me willingly, then I will get it out of you by whatever means are necessary." The smile was long gone now, his face once more frustratingly unreadable.

"That's…do you have any idea how insane you sound right now?"

"Insane? Really?" His laugh was dark, sending a chill down my spine even as his hands grasped tightly around my waist, spinning me around before lifting me up to sit on the counter. Stepping in between my knees, invading my space as he pushed up against me.

"You have no idea, Isabella. Do you know what it was like, watching you stand there screaming, and not knowing why? Not being able to understand what was hurting you, or how to make it stop? You think this is insane? Insane is spending three days watching you stare out of a window, completely unresponsive to anything and everything around you. Wondering if it was possible for a vampire to become catatonic, because that was certainly what all the signs seemed to be pointing to. And how long…how long did you have the idea in your head to kill yourself? How many days, Isabella? How many times did you kiss me, touch me, give...all the while intending to…"

I was silent, shocked, as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I didn't know what to say, couldn't even begin to comprehend…I remembered the way he looked sinking in on himself, letting me go. Thought back to the way I felt every time his eyes turned cold, the way it gutted me to the very core whenever he walked away from me. Had he experienced that same agony? Felt the same crippling desolation as I turned to leave?

Pain lanced through my chest at the thought, revulsion choking me at the very idea that I could have caused that level of pain. It wasn't possible. No. I was a newborn, and therefore prone to wild mood swings and overwrought emotional reactions. That was all. If I could dissolve into hysterics at the mere inability to don a shirt without destroying it, then wasn't it only reasonable that I would respond even more dramatically to something that actually posed a serious problem? Of course it was. And it was absurd to even entertain the idea that Edward, with all his years and experience, would feel anything close to that level of instability.

_A loud growl filling the air, followed by an earsplitting crack._

_Thrown back against a tree, cowering from the look of absolute rage that consumed his face._

"_You will not take yourself from me!"_

_Looking sick as he backs away from me._

_The forest reverberating with the sounds of tree after tree being destroyed._

_On his knees before me_

_Hands on my face_

_Hell in his eyes_

No, no, no. I pushed the images away, unwilling to face them right now.

Stepping back, Edward used his grip on my waist to pull me down off the counter and turn me to face the mirror once again. His eyes were calm when they met mine, all the emotion from a few second ago wiped away. He was so self-contained, so in control, which always made it even more disturbing when that control slipped. But it was never for long.

"So, you are just going to have to forgive me for not allowing you to keep your concerns 'private.'" He shrugged one shoulder slightly. "Or don't, it's really all the same."

Like the blank cover of a closed book, his face gave nothing away now—not even the slightest indication of the frustration and dark amusement that had been so evident only moments ago. And for the first time, that absolute lack of expression brought a feeling of relief. He wouldn't be able to just turn it on and off like that, if I held the same power over him that he wielded over me. He wanted me, needed me—I knew that. But I didn't have the ability to destroy him. Of course I didn't; there was nothing about me that could possibly inspire that level of intensity.

My eyes flicked over to study my own reflection, really _looking_ for the first time since I had initially been caught by it in this same mirror just days ago. It was perfect. Smooth. Beautiful. Impassive. Nothing to show the confusion I felt, the guilt and anger that warred inside. I looked more closely at the eyes, remembering how he had once commented on how expressive they were. It was hard to focus—the fiery sheen kept trying to distract me—but if I really concentrated...

And then I wondered; if I had to look this closely, work this hard to try and find an inkling of what I already knew I was feeling, then how did Edward always seem to know when I was upset?

_I watched him as he worked, studying his face as I tried to gauge his mood. He didn't look irritated or upset, but something felt just the slightest bit off. I had learned to read the signs of an easy and relaxed Edward, and this wasn't him. It was something in the way he held himself, in the occasional twitch of that little muscle in his jaw, a slight tightness around the eyes._

The pieces clicked together, and I finally understood. What all the words in the world would never quite be able to make me believe, my own mind wouldn't let me run from any longer. Even though we were still virtual strangers to each other in so many ways, he _knew_ me. Knew me the same way I had come to know him—on a level that can only come from constant, obsessive observation. From being tuned in to each slight flicker of emotion, every tiny little clue to what might lie beneath that composed surface.

And why was that degree of perusal necessary? Why was every little detail so important that it had to be observed, examined, and catalogued? The answer was literally staring me in the face. It was in that cold, expressionless visage before me—the one that gave no sign whatsoever of the slowly dawning horror I felt. _Because it's the only way to know. Because we give almost nothing away._

How many times would I have to learn the same lesson before I truly believed it?

I had thought I accepted the fact that Edward had the same need, the same compulsive addiction that I did. He had _told_ me how he felt, and I never once thought he was lying—to the best of my knowledge, he had never lied to me. But still, some voice deep inside always whispered doubt, wondering how it could possibly be true. Dripping poison into my subconscious every time circumstances allowed.

How many times was I going to hurt him before I finally realized that I _could_?

"I'm sorry."

Everything went still.

"You're right. I should have told you, should have said something when you first explained about how you hunted, but I was afraid. I felt like such a failure because I couldn't bring myself to do the most very basic thing that a vampire does, and I didn't want you to look at me like I was some kind of a freak. I just wanted to enjoy the time I had, didn't want to think about what I had to do—what I _thought_ I had to do—so I just pushed it all away. I was selfish, and a coward, and I'm sorry."

"Don't say that." Arms slid around me from behind—one cinching tightly around my waist as the other crossed up and over my chest, cupping my shoulder and pulling me back against his body. I was thrown for a moment by the comfort and caring implied in the gesture, but felt myself relaxing back against him in spite of the unexpectedness. I wasn't used to this kind of easy affection from him—at least not when we weren't either naked, or about to get that way. It was…nice.

"You are the farthest thing from a coward there could possibly be. From the moment I first saw you, you have been…you don't back down from anything. Things that would have most people screaming and gibbering in fear, you face head on." I couldn't hold back my disbelieving snort at that, because come on, really? I made the cowardly lion look like the terminator.

"I mean it. I don't think you see yourself clearly at all. Do you know what most people do when they realize that they are about to die? They either go into shock, scream, or beg for their lives—if they have the time. Even the most hardened criminals, the ones who will plunge in the knife and smile as the blood flows from their victims, become whining, sniveling wretches when faced with their own demise. 'Please, don't hurt me. Don't kill me. I'll do anything.'" His words were little more than a sneer behind me, disgust lacing through them, and I barely held in my shudder as screams echoed in my ears.

"But you," he continued, and now his voice was soft with wonder, all traces of repugnance gone. "You knew what I was, knew what you were facing better than any human I have ever had my hands on, and you _yelled_ at me. I offered you painless, and you told me off." I didn't even have to see his face to know he was smiling, I could _hear_ it.

"None of that makes me any less of a coward. It just makes me stupid. And shows that I have absolutely no sense of self-preservation."

"I'll agree with no sense of self-preservation, but not stupid. And never a coward. Which is what makes it so hard to understand why you won't just…" He trailed off, and his jaw came down to rest against my temple, breath wafting across my cheek as he spoke. "How is it that you can be so fearless in the face of death, can take everything I throw at you, turn around and give it right back, yet you can't bring yourself to ask about something so inconsequential? Something that you already know the answer to, if you would just think about it?"

I frowned in confusion—except my reflection didn't change, so I guess I didn't. Consciously making the effort to manipulate my facial muscles until they reflected the same level of perplexity I felt, I made a mental note to spend some more time in front of the mirror sometime soon, and further explore this strange new development.

"What do you mean, I already know the answer?" Had he really not caught on to the meaning behind the little diatribe that he had so craftily manipulated out of me? It seemed unlikely, but if we were talking about the same thing, then I most certainly did _not_ already know.

He stared at me dubiously for a long moment before answering. "Don't you remember anything I told you?"

"I remember everything that you've ever said to me, and believe me, there's never been anything about…about…" I stumbled over my words, unable to finish the sentence. "I don't know why you won't let this go. It doesn't even matter, anyways."

"Just ask the question, Isabella."

"Why? You already know what it is, so why do I have to ask? And maybe I don't even want to know anymore." He just stood there, silently staring, and I knew I wasn't going anywhere until I gave him what he wanted. I didn't know why he was so eager for me to humiliate myself, but I supposed that in the end it didn't really matter. He would get his way, because he always did.

I closed my eyes against the humiliation I was about to bring on myself.

"How many?" The words no more than a whisper of air slipping from lips that barely moved. So quiet they could almost have been my imagination.

He moved his head slightly, so that his lips were just a hair's breadth away from my ear, and breathed his answer just as softly.

"None."

And this time I really _did_ frown, as I tried to grasp the implications of that one single word. None? How was that even possible?

"I am…" My head swam as I looked for the appropriate word. "Confused." That worked.

"How can you be confused? I've told you, over and over again, that I had never wanted anyone, never felt this desire before you."

Snippets of conversations, words and sentences played back through my head, taking on new meaning.

"_For the first time, I found myself wanting another kind of pleasure besides that of satisfying my thirst."_

"_I've experienced it more times than I can count, and it was far from the first time it had been directed at me. But it was the first time I had any reaction to it other than disgust."_

_"The thoughts and images that flooded my mind then—they were things that had been there hundreds of thousands of times before, but that had never been my own."_

"_I could be merciful, and sane, and avoid acting on these strange new urges that I had no experience with trying to control."_

"I never thought…I assumed you meant because I was human. That you had never wanted a human before."

"You assumed wrong."

I was still trying to wrap my mind around it, to make sense of the incomprehensible. Surely someone like him couldn't have spent nearly a century without having even once been tempted. Maybe not by a human, but surely another vampire should have caught his eye at some point in the last hundred years? Or had I been wrong about his age?

"_How_ old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered promptly, and I rolled my eyes.

"And how long have you _been_ seventeen?"

His lips twitched as his eyes stayed steady on mine. "Awhile."

"Okay. Fine." I tried to step away, only to be yanked back by his arms tightening around me once more.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." His voice was very low. "Carlisle found me in the summer of 1918, dying of the Spanish Influenza. I was alone, as the disease had already claimed both my parents, and I had no other family. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."

I thought for a moment. This was _much_ more information than I had expected to get, and as was usual when it came to Edward, it only served to confuse me more. "If your parents were already dead when you were turned, what did you mean when you said you had a family? Parents, and brothers, and sisters?"

I was swept up suddenly and without warning into a pair of strong arms, and before I had time to react Edward was striding through the bedroom and out into the hallway. Startled, I threw my arms around his neck and clung as he quickly descended the staircase.

"Edward! What are you doing?" We were in an unfamiliar part of the house by the time he stopped and lowered my feet back down to the floor. I glanced around quickly, taking in the dark paneling on the walls, the oriental-looking carpet that was perfectly centered atop the polished wood floor, and the long mahogany table that rose above it.

Grabbing hold of my hand, Edward guided me over to one end of the table, pulling out a chair and gently pressing down on my shoulders until I gingerly lowered myself onto the seat. Pushing the chair back up to the table, he then sat himself down just around the corner, angling his chair so that we were facing each other.

"Edward?" I was confused as to why we were here; in this room that I hadn't even known existed up to this point. And why did it? Why would a vampire have a dining room table? Or for that matter, why would a vampire have a dining room, period? Or a bed? Or any of the other trappings of humanity that he seemed to surround himself with? And why had I never stopped to wonder about that before?

I pulled myself out of my musings when Edward ran first one hand through his hair, then both of them, scratching at his scalp absently as he looked around. "The bathroom just didn't seem like the appropriate place to be having this discussion."

"Discussion? Does that mean you're actually going to tell me?"

He leveled a dark look my way. "Do you want to hear this, or not?"

I looked down at the table, mumbling a quiet "Sorry."

He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes fixed on where his clasped hands rested on the table surface.

"Carlisle acted from loneliness when he made the decision to change me. That's usually the reason behind the choice, although for the most part those of our kind tend to be solitary creatures. He knew that there was nobody left alive to miss me, and I would soon be dead, anyway. So, he decided to create a companion, since he had been unable to find one among his own kind that would accept his way of life."

He glanced up at me briefly, and then let his gaze drift off to the side as he continued. "He thought of me as a son, and treated me as such. I was the first in his family, although he found Esme only a few years after. She had fallen from a cliff, yet somehow her heart was still beating when they brought her to the morgue. She and Carlisle were married a few years later."

"So you must be dying, then, in order to be changed?" I thought of my last moments before Edward had sunk his teeth into my neck; I had actually been able to feel myself slipping away. But he was shaking his head, looking back at me as he answered.

"No. Although he says that it _is_ easier if the blood is weak."

"And when you talked about having a family, that's who you were speaking of?"

"Yes, although I suppose coven would have been a more technically accurate term."

"So, you've been like this for almost ninety years?" He nodded his head, watching me carefully. "And in all that time, you never once had any desire to..." I couldn't finish, too embarrassed to put my thoughts into words, and still slightly unbelieving.

"I've already told you that I didn't." I could hear the impatience in his voice, and quickly looked down again. I didn't want to keep pushing when he was being so uncharacteristically open.

I was going through all the questions I had about this elusive family of his, trying to decide which ones to ask first—since he actually seemed willing to elaborate on them at the moment—when I looked up and met Edward's quizzical stare.

"May I ask you a question, now?" His tone was oddly hesitant, a fact that was only highlighted by his typical precise diction. I couldn't recall ever hearing him sound so…uncertain? That wasn't quite the right word, but it was the closest I could come.

"Why now? After all this time, all the things we've done, why did you suddenly start worrying about this today? I don't understand."

I smiled inwardly to hear my mantra coming from his lips for a change. After taking a brief moment to weigh the consequences, I allowed the corners of my mouth to curl up just a bit, letting my amusement show. It was gone in an instant, however, as I mulled over his question. I didn't want to answer it, didn't like how much my response would give away. But it only seemed fair, considering how easily he had been answering mine.

"You knew from the very beginning that I had never done…that…before. I'm sure it was completely obvious, even before you…before…" I strangled on the words, unable to force them out. A hazy memory surfaced—a classroom full of nervous, fidgeting teenagers, a woman at the front saying, 'If you aren't mature enough to talk about it, than you aren't mature enough to be doing it,'—and I almost laughed. Sorry, Mrs. Hanson.

"But that wasn't the case for me. You always seem to know exactly what you're doing, and I was always too preoccupied with the present to ever stop to think about the past. I mean, someone who looks like you, and has lived for so long, I just took it for granted that you had tons of…experience." Oh, this was so mortifying. For the thousandth time, I thanked whoever was listening that my propensity for blushing was a thing of the past. My head might have actually exploded with the amount of blood that would have been rushing to my face. "So, it just wasn't," I shrugged my shoulders, "an issue."

"And that changed today, why?"

It was a strange thing, this being a vampire. Not too long ago, a situation like this would have had me squirming in my chair, red and stuttering and fidgeting as I wished for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. But now, the deeper my distress grew, the more still I became. I was practically a statue by now, welded to the seat as my eyes remained frozen on Edward's. I wanted nothing more than to look away, to escape the heavy atmosphere that had descended. But I couldn't even manage to blink.

He leaned farther in toward me, one hand coming up to push the hair away from my temple, then trail down along my jaw. "Please?" His voice was so persuasive, so impossible to resist; my resistance melted away into nothing.

"When we were there, in the bathroom, and you were…were…it was just such an…intimate…" I wasn't sure how to continue, how to put my feelings into words.

Edward was staring at me with a strange intensity, and shook his head slightly as I stumbled to a halt. "What I would give to be inside of your head right now. I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, but it just gets worse and _worse_."

"It was something a lover would do," I blurted out. "Not just a partner, or someone you use to scratch an itch. And it was like you had done it a hundred times before, and I know it's stupid, and I never thought I was the only one, but I wanted to be the only one who _matters_. I _hate_ the thought that anybody else may have ever been where I am now."

At last finding the strength to tear my eyes away, I turned my head to the side and pulled in a deep breath, desperately scrambling to bring some kind of cover back up over everything I had just bared. It was too much, too raw, and I felt too exposed.

I heard and felt him move, even though my head was angled so that I couldn't see it; so it wasn't as startling as it might have been when I felt myself lifted out of the chair before being settled back down onto Edward's lap. Arms wrapped around me, one hand pulling my head onto his shoulder.

"I'm an idiot," I mumbled against his neck.

"You _are_ an idiot," he agreed with a laugh.

I stiffened in his embrace, betrayal rendering me motionless for just a fraction of a second before my muscles flew into action. Hands grabbed my waist as I tried to launch myself off of him, yanking me back tightly against his chest as I struggled to pull out of his hold. "Let go," I hissed through clenched teeth.

"No. Not until you settle down and listen. I'm sorry, Love. I shouldn't have laughed. Ow—damn it, Isabella, just sit still and let me explain, all right?"

I quit squirming, but refused to relax back into him once more. Edward wasn't the only fast learner around here, and I wasn't letting my guard down again. He let out a deep sigh when I remained stiff and unresponsive in his arms. "Would you please look at me?"

Why was it that even when I had the undeniable urge to rip his throat out, I still couldn't resist him? Unwillingly, my head turned until our faces were only inches apart.

"I told you that I had sisters," he began, and I couldn't contain my snort of disbelief.

"And you expect me to believe that you spent your time playing beauty parlor with them? Please."

A dark glare was his response, and I had to force back a laugh at his expression. _Not so funny when you're the one whose buttons are being pushed is it? _I knew better than to push too far, though, so remained silent and outwardly solemn.

"Carlisle brought Rosalie home a little more than a decade after he found Esme. She had been attacked and left for dead in the street; Carlisle smelled the blood, and went to investigate. When he realized that she wasn't going to survive, he made the decision to change her." He paused, looking away as he remembered. "She…didn't take it well. Newborns are violent, erratic creatures in any case," he flashed a grin at me, and my offended growl died before it could be properly born. "Rosalie was especially…difficult. She wanted nothing to do with either me or Carlisle; Esme was the only one she would allow near her to begin with." I heard everything he wasn't saying, and my heart broke for this girl I had never met. I thought I had a fairly good idea of what had happened to Rosalie before Carlisle came upon her, and my stomach turned at the thought of how very easily that could have been me.

"Esme was the only one who could calm her down when she would fly into one of her rages or bouts of depression; she would hold her, sing to her, comfort her…"

"Brush her hair," I whispered, thoughts of my own mother causing my throat to feel tight and swollen. I could remember being a little girl, and the way Renee would wrap me up in her arms, rocking me and stroking my hair as she whispered that everything would be all right. The way she could make every hurt better, every disappointment a little more bearable. The memories themselves may have been dim and gauzy, but the emotions that went along with them were still powerful. I missed—I pushed the thought away. I couldn't deal with that right now. Not on top of everything else.

"Yes. Esme is a natural born mother. She has an innate need to take care of anybody and everybody." My breath caught at the soft expression that flickered for just a moment across Edward's face, and jealousy flared briefly before I slammed the lid on it. This was the woman he referred to as his mother, for heaven's sake. It was beyond ridiculous to feel resentful that he had never looked at _me_ like that.

"I can't wait to meet her." And it was the truth. For the first time since Edward had sprung this whole 'family' thing on me, I actually found myself looking forward to the idea instead of dreading it. "Have you found out where they're living? Will we be leaving soon?" I wondered how long it would take to get there. Would we drive? Or run? Running would allow us to avoid people more easily, but driving would offer some protection against their scents…hmm. It would probably depend on how far we would have to travel, and in which direction. What if they were all the way over on the East Coast? How long did it take to drive across the country? There was no way I would be able to get on a plane, unless Edward had his own and knew how to fly it himself…

Realizing that several seconds had passed with no response, I pulled back far enough that I could look up to see his face. His jaw was hard, eyes intense, face unreadable as he looked off into the distance. I shifted as I leaned back farther, trying to get a better look, and suddenly found myself caught by a pair of blood red eyes. I couldn't make out the expression that clouded his face, but he almost seemed to be fighting with himself about something. Conflicted.

I had no more time to try and decipher whatever it was. After only a second or two his arms tightened around me, pulling me in so snugly against him it was an effort to breathe. Instinctively my arms came up around his neck, trying to give whatever it seemed he needed from me. If he wanted me close, I had no problem with that.

But even that didn't seem to be enough. I gasped when Edward's grip became just short of painful, and I thought I heard a barely discernable sound come from his throat just before he buried his face in my hair and took several deep breaths. His arms loosened the slightest bit, and I managed to pull in a shaky breath before his mouth made breathing impossible.

His hands were needy and desperate as they roamed my body, and I felt sanity slipping farther away with each and every touch. His lips were hard against mine, then soft as they traced over my face before once more claiming my mouth. Fingers tangled into my hair, undoing all his hard work, before sliding down my sides to grab my hips. With a sudden movement I was lifted, turned, and set back down with my legs straddling his. Arms once more wrapped securely around my back, pulled me up flush against him: chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach.

When his hands gripped my hips once more, pulling me down as he arched up into me, some dim voice of reason whispered that things were getting a little more out of hand than they should. _I thought we didn't have time for this_…

But something in the way he held me kept me from pulling away, from reminding him that he still had things that needed taking care of. There was an almost anguished frenzy about him, and I had the strange certainty that he was somehow hurting. And that was just…it was unacceptable. My beautiful boy should never, ever hurt.

So I let him push me and pull me, let him have what he wanted and take what he needed, because it was the only comfort I knew how to give.

* * *

Hey there! *waves* Long time no see! Some of you may have seen a teaser posted over on ADF last week, promising this chapter by last Friday. Obviously, I didn't make that deadline. For those of you who have been following this story for a while, I'm sure this comes as no surprise. For all you new readers: welcome to my world.

The bad news: this next month is going to be even busier than usual for me, and I will have pretty much zero time to write.

The good news: I already have about 2000 words of the next chapter written (it was supposed to be part of this chapter, but was such a drastic change in tone that it just ended up not fitting in).

As the outline stands, there should be 4 chapters to go. Of course, we all know how it turns out when I start trying to predict these things, so please don't hold me to that. Between word vomit and characters that keep trying to hijack my story, that number could double.

Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Because it's been quite a while since the last update, a few readers have suggested a quick synopsis at the beginning of each chapter (which is a great idea, and I'm sorry I didn't think of it before). So, here's a quick and dirty summary of what has happened so far:

Edward kidnaps Bella, ends up giving her the choice between dying now or dying later, and they spend the night having really hot sex. 3 days later she wakes up as a vampire, they do it some more, then he takes her to a meadow where he has her first meal waiting. She eats 4 people, then flips her shit when she realizes what she did. She decides to kill herself, since she can't bear to kill people, and Edward throws a huge temper tantrum before showing her how to hunt animals. He says he is going to take her to meet his family, then they go back to the house and have sex some more. He finally tells her why he changed her instead of killing her, and she admits that she wouldn't change things if she could. In the last chapter there was a sort of sweet scene where Edward brushed her hair, which led to her getting jealous of all the other girls she imagines came before. This leads to Edward finally telling her a little about his family, namely Esme and Rosalie. Then he gets all moody and needy, basically mauling her while sitting at the dining room table.

This chapter jumps around in time a little bit, much like chapter 3 did, with line breaks separating the different sections. You may want to go re-read the last few lines of chapter 7, so that you recognize where you are when it pics up from that spot a little ways down.

**There are a few lines taken directly from **_**Twilight**_**, and a few that are not quite direct quotes but come very close. All characters and recognizable story components belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just made them do some really bad things. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

I sat in the library, curled up in a dark brown leather chair, trying to read. It wasn't working out very well. _Romeo and Juliet_, although as warm and comfortable as an old friend, was completely failing to attract even a fraction of my interest, much less hold onto it. Just like the half dozen other books I had tried before it, and that now sat stacked in a pile on top of the small table next to my seat.

I should have been in heaven, immersed in the faintly musty smell of old paper and leather, surrounded by everything from first edition classics to last month's New York Times best sellers. Instead I was restless and ill tempered, trying unsuccessfully to shake the feeling of having been grounded.

_Stay in the house, Isabella. I mean it, not one foot outside that door; do you understand?_

Not that I would have gone, anyway, but the injunction still rankled. Did he really feel like he had to order me around? Couldn't he have just asked me to stay put for the night? Really, what did he think I was going to do? Run away?

Finally giving up trying to focus on the words in front of me, I slammed the cover shut and added the volume to the top of my pile of discards. Throwing myself up and out of the chair with a huff, I began to pace back and forth across the room as I muttered to myself about overbearing, possessive, domineering control-freaks.

Glancing at the antique-looking heavy wooden clock that sat on the mantle, I saw that it was a little past midnight. Edward had been gone for almost three hours.

_I should be back before morning. I trust you can keep yourself occupied until then without getting into too much trouble._

I had spent the first hour wandering the house, exploring all the rooms I hadn't had the opportunity to familiarize myself with yet, and wondering at some of the inconsistencies I found. There were the top-of-the-line fridge, range, and dishwasher in a kitchen that was devoid of food, dishes, and cookware. Bathrooms stocked with towels and toiletries, but that sported empty toilet-paper holders. Lamps that weren't needed sat on tables next to couches, chairs, and beds that nobody slept in.

It was like walking around inside of a movie set. An oh-so-slightly dusty movie set.

One of the main reasons that I had settled into the library once I stumbled across it was because—unlike much of the rest of the house—it almost had a lived-in feel to it. Chairs and a small sofa that didn't look as if they were display pieces in some upscale furniture store. Books, magazines, and the odd newspaper littering the tops of various small tables scattered around the room. Actual _scuffs in the upholstery_ of the footstool sitting directly across from the chair I had been curled up in. As if somebody spent a significant amount of time sitting there, feet up and relaxed.

Which had absolutely _nothing_ to do with why I had settled into that particular seat as I tried to occupy myself with one book after another. Nothing at all.

Two hours later and I was about to go out of my mind. Cleaning supplies had been located and every surface in the house sparkled and shined. The last few remaining feathers and bits of debris had been scrupulously eliminated from the master bedroom. The pile of books I had left discarded in the library had been carefully re-shelved.

Now I was standing in the front hall, motionless and staring at the door as I wrestled with the urge to open it. I wanted _out_, and although boredom was my primary motivation, I had to admit that a tiny part of me wanted to do it just because Edward had specifically ordered me not to.

All right, maybe it was more like 50/50.

I took another step closer, toying with the idea. Did he really think he had the right to boss me around? To tell me what I could and couldn't do, where I could and couldn't go? That he could just say, "Stay," and I would do it, for no other reason than because he said so? Was this really a precedent that I wanted to set?

Then again, I didn't relish the thought of his anger, either. Or, even worse, disappointment. Breaking the only rule he had set down the very first time he left me on my own would be a massive breach of trust, and I was already skating on thin enough ice after the way I had behaved earlier. No, it was best to just stay put for now, and try to get back into his good graces. There would be plenty of other opportunities to assert my independence.

4:00 found me back in the library once again, reading through the titles and mentally cataloguing the placement of books I wanted to come back and check out later. I would have to ask Edward if we could take some of these with us when we—

I froze at the distant sound of an engine approaching, immediately recognizing the car Edward had driven off in the night before.

I was there to meet him at the front door, just barely managing to restrain myself from running outside. I wasn't sure if the ban on leaving the house still held now that he was home, but I wasn't about to take the chance. I hadn't fought temptation for the last few hours only to ruin everything in the final seconds.

The very instant he appeared in the doorway, however, all restraint was thrown out the window as I launched myself toward the open door.

* * *

My fingertips rubbed gently across Edward's head, creating small, soothing circles as they slipped through the coppery mess. The frenzy seemed to have passed; his arms still held me almost impossibly close, his face buried into the crook of my neck, but all was still and quiet now. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest, synchronized with the light puffs of breath against my skin.

I didn't know what to say, and didn't want to risk shattering this small bit of peace we seemed to have found, so I stayed silent and let my fingers continue to soothe and stroke.

"You can't imagine how good that feels."

His voice was hushed—as if he, also, was hesitant to disturb the tranquil mood. I hummed a bit, and let my lips curve into a small smile.

It was a heady feeling, this power that I was finally beginning to accept that I possessed. The idea that I had the ability to bring this fierce creature to his knees, that I could hurt him with my words or actions, was still terrifying; but if it meant that I could also do this—that I could soothe his demons, calm the storms that raged inside—well, I could learn to live with it.

_With great power comes great responsibility_. I didn't know where the words came from, but I accepted their truth. It was a double-edged sword, this strange bond that we had. It could cut and cleave if wielded carelessly, could demolish and destroy so very easily. We could carve one another into pieces with nothing more than a word, a look. By the same token, a simple touch could make everything that was wrong in the world simply fade away. Every smile shone with the light of a thousand suns.

My hands were clumsy and shaking under the weight that filled them, but I resolved in that moment that I would learn to hold it steady and sure.

Time passed easily for a while, until a quiet voice once again broke the silence.

"I have to go somewhere tonight, and I need you to stay here."

I didn't answer. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I suddenly had no breath to speak with, and seemed to have lost the ability to obtain more. He was leaving me? When? Why? For how long?

Arms tightened around me the slightest bit, and his words began to come faster.

"It will only be for the night, possibly not even that long, but I can't take you with me. It's not safe, not yet."

The constriction in my chest eased slightly at his words, and I pulled in a long breath. One night. I could do that.

"Okay."

He finally loosened his grip, pulling away just enough so that he could look into my face. His gaze was searching as it probed mine; he was probably trying to figure out why I was being so uncharacteristically agreeable.

"Okay? That's it?"

I shrugged, cocking my head slightly to the side. "What do you want me to say?"

"I thought you would have a thousand and one questions. You usually do."

My hands were still buried in his hair, and I rested my arms against his shoulders as I leaned forward. "I do. But I'm sort of enjoying the peace and quiet right now."

Edward seemed confused for a moment, and then looked down. When he raised his face again, it was with a slightly rueful expression. "I have an awful temper, sometimes."

I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to smirk at him. Because…hello, captain obvious.

"I want…" his voice tapered off, and his brow furrowed as he seemed to search for words. "I don't want you to be afraid."

I tilted my head forward, until my forehead rested against his. "I'm not afraid of you." It wasn't exactly a lie.

Feather-light brushes of lips along my cheek, just as soft as the voice that whispered against my skin, "Such a brave little lamb."

"I thought we agreed it was lack of self-preservation?" I turned my head a bit, looking for his lips. "And I'm not a lamb any more."

Soft, sweet kisses against soft, sweet lips. Slow. Quiet and gentle and languid and lovely and perfect.

Until I tried to slide closer, and open my mouth, and found myself being gently pushed away, instead.

"Don't."

Something strange happened in the hollow stillness of my chest, almost a ripping sensation, and I pulled back in surprise and dismay.

"Why not?"

"Because we both know what will happen if we start that right now."

"And that would be a bad thing, why?"

"We've been over this, Isabella. There isn't time—"

I threw myself off his lap, moving several feet away before turning to glare. "You keep saying that! There's so much to do, and there isn't time, and we have to leave soon…and yet here we still are!"

"Exactly! Here we still are, days behind schedule, because of precisely that kind of distraction."

"Distraction? I'm a distraction?"

"Damn it, Isabella, you know that's not—"

"No, that's fine. By all means, go. Don't let me continue to _distract_ you from whatever's so damn important." I turned and made my way toward the door, muttering to myself. "Although you didn't seem to mind being _distracted_ a little whi—" I hadn't even made it halfway across the room before I found myself yanked back around by my arm. Startled, I whipped my head up to see Edward's narrowed eyes.

"You," he ground out, both hands now gripping me just above the elbows, "are the most _infuriating_ creature."

"Well, I guess that makes me just perfect for you, then!" I snapped back.

We continued to glare tensely at each other for a few seconds, but then something changed. Edward's face softened just the slightest bit, and his hands relaxed their grip before sliding up to rest on my shoulders. Then he smiled. That slow, brilliant, stomach-knotting, breath-stealing, knee-weakening smile.

"It does, doesn't it?"

Then, with one light brush of his knuckles across my cheek, he was gone, leaving me a melted puddle of goo in the middle of the floor.

Damn him.

I was still standing in the same spot, trying to figure out exactly _what_ had just happened here, when Edward reappeared in the room carrying a few small items in one hand. He grabbed my wrist with his free hand as he passed me, pulling me in his wake as he made his way back over to the table. Setting the items down and releasing his grip on me, he turned and cupped my chin in one hand, tilting it up until I met his gaze.

"This won't hurt, but it will be slightly uncomfortable."

A few seconds later I was standing with my back to the wall, looking at the lens of a camera through the cloudy film that covered my eyes, and peevishly thinking that _uncomfortable_ was an understatement. I smiled dutifully when instructed, trying not to focus my eyes on the microscopic scratches and warped sections of the contacts as the camera clicked, and clicked, and then clicked again. The very moment it dropped away from Edward's face, those babies were _gone_.

He showed me how to stow them away in the little plastic case, then was once more towing me along behind him as he strode out of the room and down the hall, hand firmly clamped around my wrist once again. And okay, I had had just about enough of _that_.

Digging my heels in, I yanked my hand out of his grasp and crossed my arms over my chest as I stood there in the hallway and glared at the back of his head. He had stopped immediately when I pulled away, and now stood motionless, his shoulders pulled tight.

"Isabella."

"Edward."

"Do you think," his voice was tight and controlled, "that you could try," he turned to face me now, and I had to force myself not to take a step back from the expression on his face, "to be just a little. Less. Aggravating?"

Aggravating? Because I didn't like being pulled around like a dog on a leash? My temper rose, and I could feel my chin lifting as I ground my teeth together.

"That depends. Do you think you could try to be just a little. Less. High-handed?" I refused to acknowledge the fluttering in my stomach, the anticipation that buzzed through me as Edward visibly worked to keep his temper held in check. He took a single step toward me, and I almost stopped breathing when I saw his fingers twitch slightly. Then he stopped.

One second. Two. Three.

"Fine. I'll be upstairs if you need anything." With that he spun on his heel, and once again strode down the hallway toward the front of the house. I stood frozen for a moment before taking off after him, and made it to the bottom of the staircase just as he reached the top.

"Will you at least tell me where it is that we're going?" I called up to him.

He stood there for a moment, one foot on the stairs, one on the second floor, as he seemed to have some kind of internal debate. Finally he turned slightly so that he could look down at me, and his lip curled a bit—as if the single word he spoke tasted foul on his tongue.

"Alaska."

Then he was gone, and I was left alone to wonder.

What was wrong with Alaska? Why was he insisting on taking me there, if the thought held such repugnance for him?

And why did I have this strangely empty feeling, like I had just lost something, when I was pretty sure that I had actually won this latest little skirmish? I made my point, Edward quit dragging me around, I didn't get yelled at, and he told me where he was going instead of stalking off to God only knew where. It should have been a win on all counts. But still, instead of being sweet, these little victories always seemed to taste like dirt in my mouth, and I didn't understand why.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. I did know why; it was just difficult to admit the fact that Edward had become like a drug to me, even if it was only to myself. Being with him, even when we were spitting mad and at each others' throats, was still infinitely preferable to being away from him. I was addicted, and there was no use pretending otherwise.

With a sigh, I headed up the stairs. I had promised myself that I would spend some time in front of a mirror at the earliest opportunity, and now seemed as good a time as any. Then I would go find my wayward vampire, and this time it would take more than a closed door to keep me from him.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"What's wrong with Alaska?"

I was standing in the doorway to what looked like some kind of home office, watching Edward as he mapped out what would apparently be our route as we traveled north. No matter how badly I wanted to be within touching distance, I wasn't about to get any closer than that to the shiny, pretty, _expensive_ looking Macbook sitting on the desk.

"There's nothing _wron_g with Alaska. It's beautiful country. Remote. Full of wildlife. Sparsely populated. A fairly ideal location, in all actuality." The words sounded good, but did nothing to explain his tense demeanor.

"Then what's the problem?"

The chair spun around suddenly, and Edward's fingers pressed deeply into the arms as he leaned toward me. "_The problem_ is that there is a whole other country between here and there, and you need some kind of valid identification to cross in or out of the U.S. through Canada. That means you need a new identity, which takes time. Then I have to worry about getting you across without slaughtering the border officers when they stop the car for inspection, which is by no means a sure thing."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'Oh.'"

"Is that all?"

My poor attempt at levity was apparently very much unappreciated, judging by the glare I received.

"Isn't that enough?"

"I mean, can't we avoid all of that? If we went on foot instead of taking the car, we wouldn't have to worry about any of those things."

He was still glaring. "Do you honestly think that I haven't already considered that? Even with the danger, this is still the safest way."

I really had no argument for that. I had no experience in these matters, and had to trust in Edward's judgment. I still wondered, though…

"If it's really that difficult, why don't we just wait until I have better control? What's the big rush?"

The silence stretched on as we both remained motionless, and it soon became obvious that I wasn't going to get an answer. Why was he always so damn secretive about everything?

"Why, Edward? Damn it! Why can't you just talk to me? Why does everything have to be so difficult? Why can't you just…" I couldn't finish, unsure of what else there was to say. I turned to leave, but didn't even make it out of the doorway before I was stopped by his rushed words.

"Ask me anything else."

I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing in front of the chair, hand half-lifted toward me before it dropped down to his side. Did he really mean it? Slowly turning back around, I cocked my head to the side as I studied his expression. Yes, it looked like he really did.

My brain flipped through a thousand questions as I stood there looking at him. From easy to hard, trivial to important, I considered and discarded them all. I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, but at the same time I didn't want to push too hard. Finally I settled on something that, while not actually important in the grand scheme of things, had nevertheless been puzzling me for days.

"I have been wondering about one thing. While I was changing, I remember you coming in the room; you said I was beautiful, and that the next year was going to be difficult. I had no idea what you meant at the time, until you told me what most newborns are like—about how thirst is all they really know or care about for the first year or two. So does that mean that you didn't think we would be…like…we are…to begin with?"

The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly. "You mean, did I expect you to jump on me mere seconds after waking up?"

"No…yes…I mean, that's not exactly…" I looked down, trying to order my words so that they made sense. Why was this so hard? He took pity on me after a couple of seconds, stepping forward and using one finger to tilt my chin up toward him.

"No, Isabella. I knew that it would happen eventually, but I didn't think we would be physically intimate for quite some time—something that I am more than happy to have been wrong about, by the way. I honestly don't know if I would have been able to survive an entire year without touching you. But was that really what you wanted to know?"

"Um, not really. I mean, yes, but it was more as a clarification before I asked…" I looked back down and took a deep breath, steeling myself before raising my eyes once more and looking directly into his. "Edward, why don't I have any underwear?"

Silence.

More silence.

But this was different. This wasn't Edward refusing to answer my questions.

No, this was Edward speechless. Flustered. And it was much, much more satisfying than I could have imagined.

"I mean, you thought of everything else," I continued. "It just doesn't make sense that you would have overlooked something so basic. At first I assumed…well, I'm sure you know what I thought. But if you weren't planning on us being…intimate…then I have to wonder what your reasoning was."

As the seconds ticked past it became obvious that—once again—I wasn't going to receive an answer. I was disappointed, irritated, but somehow not surprised. Shaking my head, I turned to leave once more, throwing one last parting remark back over my shoulder.

"I should have known. So much for 'Ask me anything else.'"

He didn't try to stop me this time as I stalked down the hallway, but a wayward thought halted me in my tracks just seconds later. Turning around, I retraced my steps back to the office, meeting Edward's eyes as I once more stood in the doorway.

"While you're off doing whatever tonight, you can find a Wal-Mart or something and rectify that little oversight. Because I can tell you one thing, Edward Cullen, and that is that there is no way in Hell that I am going to be braless when I meet your parents!"

* * *

Arms wrapped tightly around me as I threw myself into them, and I buried my face into the little indentation where his neck met his shoulder—that perfect spot that I just knew had been created especially for me.

All my earlier restlessness and frustration melted away, unable to stand in the face of the calm tranquility that swept through me as hands stroked up and down my back. I pushed my nose deeper into him, just breathing and taking and being. And I wanted to say that I was sorry, that I had missed him, but all that came out was a soft hum.

It was almost as if he understood the words that I couldn't say, as I felt his jaw move against my temple and one hand slide under the hem of my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back. Then we just stood there, calm and still and wrapped up in each other, far away from the tempers and the hurt and the harsh words of yesterday.

After a while, his hands slipped around my sides to grasp my waist lightly, gently pushing until I had to lift my face away from its comfortable spot in his neck. Letting my own hands fall away, I kept my eyes lowered as I stepped back and let out a sigh. This was where he told me, once again, that there were things to do, preparations to be made, and I was determined to be an adult about it. I wouldn't get angry, or clingy, or try and make him feel guilty for doing what needed to be done.

But I found myself tethered, the hands around my waist refusing to release me as I tried to retreat another step, holding me captive even as they pushed me away. Confused, I finally raised my eyes to his, trying to figure out what he wanted from me. I was getting used to the push and pull, but both at the same time was more than I knew what to do with.

None of the things I expected to see were there to greet me; there was no distance or caution, no indecision, no glassy smooth mask in place. Instead there was an almost mischievous glint in the eyes that met mine, a playful grin threatening to melt me where I stood.

"What?" Not that I didn't want his smile, because lord only knew what that grin did to my insides. But usually they had to be won, like treasured prizes handed out for a battle well fought. I didn't know what to do with one given so freely. I couldn't think of any reason _why_ he would be smiling down at me right now—what I had done to deserve it—and it was starting to make me nervous.

"You didn't leave the house."

I felt my brows pull together into a frown, and took a brief moment to feel smug. I hadn't even had to think about it.

"You told me not to." That still rankled, but I was trying to get over it. I had done a lot of thinking while he was gone, and had finally come to the conclusion that I was going to have to learn to pick my battles where Edward was concerned if this thing between us was going to work. And, once the decision was made, there was no time like the present to start practicing.

"Hmmm." One hand lifted from my waist, and I felt his thumb sweep softly along the line of my jaw, back and forth, over and over. "I wasn't sure whether or not you would actually listen, though. You do have a tendency to be rather…stubborn." I let my eyes drift closed as one hand slipped back under my shirt, palm firm and warm against the small of my back pulling me close once more. His lips had replaced his thumb now, but I could still feel the shape of his smile against my skin.

"Stubborn."

Teeth scraped gently across my collarbone.

"Disobedient."

Light nip at my earlobe.

"I was half convinced you would have gone at least as far as the porch."

One hand was tangled in my hair now, pulling my head back so that my neck was bared for the soft kisses that pressed against it. Fingers of the opposite hand played with the waistband of my jeans, dipping underneath before stroking upward once more, leaving throbbing heat in their wake.

"You were just hoping for an excuse to spank me again."

He froze briefly before lifting his face from my neck, eyes wide and shocked as they stared down at me. And the trickling little wellspring of bravery that had prompted my words almost dried up to nothing. Would have, if not for the slight tightening of his hands on my skin, the way his lower body nudged even closer in to me, even as his torso leaned away. Oh, yes, he wanted. The trickle grew to a flood, and I dared.

"But I didn't disobey. I was good." Lifting my hands up, I let my fingers weave themselves into his hair, tugging slightly. Reaching out and taking what I wanted. "So, tell me, Edward," I licked my lips, watching as his stare riveted itself onto my mouth, his own falling open slightly on an exhale. "If bad girls get punished, then shouldn't good girls get a reward?"

His eyes were suddenly back on mine, narrowed and suspicious; but his hands were still firm and strong as they held me pulled tight against him.

"And just what did you have in mind?"

"You." I held my breath, waiting.

"You have me." He didn't get it; I could tell by the slight tilt to his head, the bemused expression that had replaced the suspicious look of a moment ago. Taking a deep breath, I gathered up my courage to lay it all out there.

"I want you. I want one whole day, where you don't go anywhere or do anything, except me. I don't want to hear that there isn't time, or that you have too much to do, or that we need to leave. I just want one last day where it's only us, before I have to face the rest of the world. I want _you_."

He was quiet for several seconds, studying me, before he spoke.

"One day? You're sure that's what you want?"

That certainly sounded promising, and excitement bubbled despite my best efforts not to get my hopes up too high. I nodded my head, never moving my eyes from his. I thought that I saw something flash, but it was there and gone too quickly to be sure.

"You never did ask why I had to leave last night."

I blinked a few times, confused at the change in topic, before moving a finger to hesitantly trace under one of his eyes. The shadows that had begun to gather over the last few days were gone, his skin slightly less pale. "You were thirsty." The words were barely a whisper, and I did my best not to think about the connotations. I didn't understand why he was bringing that up now, what bearing it had on the subject at hand.

"That was…incidental." His hand captured mine, bringing it down and away from his face. "Some jobs are better left to…professionals…and creating identities is one of them. Anybody can make a driver's license, there's not much to it. But to create an entire identity from scratch—birth certificate, family history, school and medical records—well, that's a whole different story. It takes time, and a certain skill set, as well as the right connections. It's one of those things that are just easier to pay for than to try and do yourself."

The pieces clicked together, and with them the realization that I had just been played.

"And how long does this whole process take?"

"Passports are the most difficult, they usually require at least a week. But since you don't need one of those to go through Canada…four days." That smirk that I both loved and hated was in full force now, and he released my hand to reach up and tap my nose with one fingertip. "_One_ of which belongs to you, as requested, for being such a _good girl_."

"And just who gets the other three?" I stepped back, folding my arms across my chest as I tried my hardest to look upset. It was a difficult undertaking, since the only emotion I could actually feel at the moment was joy. Pure and simple elation at the fact that I would have four whole, uninterrupted days to enjoy him. And I doubted that I fooled him for even a moment.

"I do." With a quick movement, his hand reached toward me once more, gripping my chin and pulling my face up until it was almost touching his. "And I'm claiming mine now." His mouth was firm against mine, and I gave in to the pressure of his tongue for just a second or two before pulling away. Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I quickly stepped around him and into the still open doorway. "You'll have to catch me, first!" And then I was running, unable to hold back a giggle at the look of shock I had glimpsed on his face just before I turned to flee.

A shock that was short-lived, apparently. He caught me before I even reached the tree line, his laughter joining mine as we both tumbled to the ground.

**_One Week Later._**

Burning. Searing. Agonizing.

This time there were words. But in some ways, that only made it worse.

I had burned before, and logically I knew that this was nothing compared to the pain I had already endured. But this time I had a choice. I could end it in minutes, seconds even. With only a few short movements, I could have that soothing nectar running down my throat, dousing the inferno that blazed within. I could ease my own suffering this time, instead of merely waiting for a relief that may never come.

It was like the difference between being tied to a stake as I burned, and _gripping_ the stake to hold myself in the fire.

Most of the time, I had just enough strength to sit there unmoving while I was charred alive. Sometimes, my conviction waned, and I needed Edward's help to hold me back. Somehow, he always knew when it was about to become too much, when the monster in my head and the devil tearing my throat into bleeding shreds were enough to overcome rational thought and reason. When any last vestiges of humanity I possessed were overruled by the everlasting, eternal _thirst_.

_Almost over. It's almost over_.

Part of me—the tiny little remnant that was still capable of thinking—had assumed that it would get easier now that we were past any major population hubs. Anchorage was behind us, the Denali wilderness getting closer with every mile. I had survived border crossings, cities, traffic jams, gas stations…this should have been a cakewalk.

But it had been three days since I had fed, and the unceasing torture of being constantly surrounded by humans—by food—had taken its toll both physically and psychologically. I found myself slipping farther and farther away from myself, descending deeper into the haze of blood and want and need and thirst.

Suddenly my head was yanked to the side, the iron grip on my chin pulling my face around until I was pinned by Edward's angry glare.

"Don't even think about it." Hissed words from a snarling mouth. "Damn it, Isabella, stop breathing!" I hadn't been aware that I was. I knew that I wasn't supposed to breathe, that it only made everything worse, but at times I couldn't ignore the compulsion, the little voice that whispered in my ear that it could help, could cool the fire, could help ease the pain. It was a lying voice, full of false promises and unrealized hope, but sometimes it was just too tempting to ignore.

I stopped the traitorous breath in my throat, but it was already too late. I could feel myself slipping, the red haze settling over my eyes, the fire in my throat and stomach overtaking everything else.

"Damn it!" Dimly, I felt the car veer off to the side, heard the skidding of tires on pavement and ice as it slowed. So quickly that it was almost one fluid movement, Edward shut off the engine, threw the emergency brake handle, shoved his seat back as far as it would go, and pulled me across the console and into his lap.

I tried to push myself off of him, pull out of his embrace and away from the mouth that seized mine, but it was a weak effort that he easily ignored. I knew well by now that I would have to hurt him in order to escape, and that was something that I just could not bring myself to do, even through the bloodlust that gripped me. I was well and truly caught, and felt my struggles weakening even as the monster within raged at being foiled once again.

One hand was clamped like a vice around the back of my neck, the other pushing up the skirt I wore until it was gathered around my hips. I whimpered when it delved between my legs, his name escaping on a whine before he could seal my mouth shut once more.

There was no tenderness, no affection in the movements of his lips or hands. Everything was hard and fast, fingers moving with sure knowledge of just where to press, how deeply to push, only pausing long enough to bat my own hands away when they tried to scrabble at the fastening of his pants. When I came it was with a pained cry, the pleasure dampened by the knowledge that I was—and would remain—alone in it.

And still his fingers didn't stop, allowing me no time to collect myself before they were once again pushing me higher and higher, my face now buried in his neck as I panted and moaned.

Again and again he brought me over the edge, until finally he tilted my face up to meet his, eyes searching mine. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he slowly withdrew his fingers, wiping them on my skirt as he pulled it back down over my legs. I pressed myself as close as I could, breathing deeply so there was nothing but his scent filling my nose, blocking out the faint hint of human that clung to everything around me. The thirst still burned through my throat, but the monster had once again been caged, even if the bars of its prison were weak and temporary. We were close—_so close_—and if I could just manage to keep it locked up for a little while longer…

All too soon he was pushing me away, settling me once more into my own seat before starting the car and pulling back out onto the highway. I huddled down, pressing my cheek hard against the cool leather as I shut my eyes against the shame that curdled in my stomach. I hated myself. I hated that my own body could be used as a weapon against me, one unstoppable desire used to keep another constrained. Hated that I was so out of control that it had to be done, that I was too weak to keep myself in check, and that all my beliefs and conviction not to take another life could be so easily overwhelmed. I hated Edward for taking me away from the relative peace of his house in the woods, for making any of this necessary in the first place.

I hated the coldness of his hands on me, the feeling clinical and impersonal. Hated that my body didn't care, that it reacted to his touch with the same compulsive need, despite the emptiness I felt inside.

I hated the silvery pattern of scars hidden under the blue cloth of his shirt, a permanent record of my weakness. Even in this self-imposed darkness I could see them, clearly traced on the insides of my eyelids, silently accusing. Could remember with perfect clarity the feeling of hard flesh giving and tearing under my teeth, the hideous, grating screech sounding in my ears, vibrating through my body, breaking through. Immediately replaced by a strangled cry of horror as I realized what I had done.

Even now, days and miles later, I couldn't hold back, another useless apology erupting before I could stop it.

"I'm sorry." Barely more than a whisper, accompanied by the soft touch of my hand tracing across the evidence of my disgrace. Even blind, I knew the precise location of each and every mark; I could feel them burning my fingertips through the cloth, even though rationally I knew that was impossible.

"Don't talk." His hand reached up to pull mine away; bring it back down to the seat between us. But instead of letting go, I felt fingers twine through my own, squeezing gently.

We finished the driving section of our journey like that; he cold and vigilant, I concentrating solely on the uncomfortable feeling of sensory deprivation as I did my best to block out the rest. But for all the distance that separated us, our hands stayed where they were, linked together in the space between.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Caribou was marginally more palatable than deer, but only just. By the time I raised my head from the third lifeless body, the sharp edge of my thirst had been dulled to the point where I felt able to pause while I contemplated whether or not I should take another. My stomach sloshed when I stood, and as I bent over to brush the snow off my knees I grimaced at the torn and blood streaked material that clung to my legs. I had yet to master the art of dining gracefully, and even though I wasn't head-to-toe blood afterwards any longer, I still managed to ruin whatever I wore each and every time.

"Ugh. Do you think we can find a stream or something before going back to pick up our stuff?" I wiped an arm over my cheek, wrinkling my nose at the realization that I was doing little more than smearing the mess around. "I really don't think I would make a good impress—"

My voice broke off as I finally turned and looked up at where I knew Edward stood watching me. There was no evidence of the cold detachment of the last few days in the eyes that marked my every move. Instead there was a heat that I hadn't seen since before we left Washington, a coiled tension in the stillness of his limbs.

"Are you finished?"

Not trusting my voice, I slowly nodded my head.

Everything was fast. Him coming to me. Clothing falling away. Hands grabbing, pulling me down. Over me; around me; inside me.

Then it slowed, dragged out on a long breath, eyelids falling and hard lines easing.

For long moments everything was still, the silence broken only by slow and steady breaths. Then those brilliant eyes were open once more, flitting over my face as he seemed to take in every feature, each line and curve and shadow, as if trying to commit them to memory.

Just a light puff of air, soft and quiet. "Edward." I didn't know if it was a question or a statement, but his fingertips brushed across the plump of my lips, silencing me with a touch before they smoothed up my cheek, brushed a strand of hair away from my forehead, slid down to my jaw. Then lower.

Slowly, slowly, slowly he began to move, weight braced on one hand as the other mapped every bit of skin he could reach; eyes following, dark with concentration. As if it was the first time, and everything was new and unexplored. As if he hadn't seen, touched, tasted each and every inch dozens, scores, hundreds of times before.

I watched him watching me, tried to envision what he was seeing—wondering about the picture that met his eyes as they wandered and roamed. Imagined bright streaks and smears of red marring pale skin, set off against the even whiter backdrop of snow. Dark strands of hair blowing in the brisk wind that whistled and shrieked. Lips and eyes and body open to him, for him. Wanting to give, after hours and days and forever of only being allowed to take. Wanting so badly to give him anything, everything.

He wouldn't be hurried, my soft whimpers met with light brushes of his lips across mine, shushing me silently. Elbows now digging into the icy ground alongside my shoulders, hands gentle and easy as they pushed clumps of hair away from my face, stroked over temples, across cheekbones. Eyes steady and intense as they took in everything. Watched me gasp, and tremble, and fall apart, before finally drifting shut.

I didn't ask, and he didn't tell. We gathered up the scattered pieces of clothing in silence before heading back to the car to collect the rest of our belongings. Even when he brought me to a sweeping expanse of ridged ice, showed me how to break through to the rushing water beneath, words were few and meaningless.

But when I reached out my hand, his was always there to grasp it, fingers slipping easily between mine and holding firm.

I first smelled them only an hour or two later, just a faint trace lingering along a narrow path. As we continued on the scents began to come with greater frequency, growing fresher, stronger. By the time we broke out of the trees I had counted 9 separate scents, and trepidation almost had me turning around and running the other direction as quickly as my legs would carry me.

As if sensing my sudden urge to flee, Edward reached back for my hand, holding it firmly in his grasp as he halted just a few feet away from the cover of the forest, eyes firmly locked on a small group of houses that sat along a narrow road a few hundred yards away. He pulled me forward several more paces before once again halting, head cocked to one side as confusion crossed his face. Looking from him to the houses that seemed the focus of his attention, I tried to figure out what was wrong. I could hear movement, the soft sound of voices, and then the sudden onset of absolute silence when Edward took two more steps, making more noise than necessary.

Barely more than half a second later the sound of a door opening broke through the stillness, then two figures appeared around the corner of one of the houses in the center of the row. The one in front was small both in build and stature, all slender curves and short spiky hair, and seemed to almost float above the ground rather than walking on top of it. She halted in her tracks at the back corner of the house; shock plainly stamped across her delicate features.

"Edward?"

The single word carried on the air, and I could hear a slight commotion coming from within at least one of the other houses—gasps and exclamations of surprise, followed by whispers that I couldn't make out.

"Alice?"

My eyes jerked back to Edward, taken aback by the uncertainty evident in his voice. His expression was something I had never seen, some combination of surprise, dismay, and confusion. Instinctively I took a quick step toward him, closing the distance until I was pressed against his side. The movement attracted the attention of the blonde male that had been standing behind the girl—Alice—and his eyes narrowed as he took a single step forward so that he was next to her.

Edward's gaze flickered to him for an instant, and in a quick movement he pushed me all the way behind him before once more turning his attention to Alice, whose expression had morphed into a fearsome scowl.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

Edited to add: I realize that you now need a passport to travel between Canada and the US, but that requirement didn't come until a couple years after the events of Twilight. In 2005 a valid State Driver's License was enough to get you through the border crossings.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm sorry. It hardly seems adequate, but it's all I have. Writer's block, computer death, holiday mayhem—they all played a part in delaying this chapter, but when it comes right down to it, I dropped the ball, and I'm sorry.

I am just absolutely in awe of how wonderful all you guys are. Thank you for your patience, for your amazing reviews, and for your encouraging messages during the last few months. They meant the world to me.

I own nothing.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I couldn't see Edward's expression from my place behind him, but I could feel the tension in every muscle of his body as I pressed up against his back.

"You really don't know?" His tone of voice…it came across as if he already knew the answer, but was somehow having trouble making himself believe it.

Alice crossed her arms over her chest as her scowl deepened. "Well, I don't know, Edward. Why don't _you_ tell _me_?"

I felt myself responding to the antagonism in her voice, my hackles rising and hands clenching into fists at my sides. It seemed to have the opposite affect on Edward, however, as I felt him relax almost imperceptibly, his posture loosening and a bit of the tenseness leaving his shoulders.

"Well, that's interesting. So tell me, Alice, how does it feel to have unexpected visitors suddenly drop by unannounced?" Biting. Sarcastic. Amused?

"If you would carry a phone like everybody else on the planet—"

"In 1964?"

"Don't change the subject!" With one stomp of her dainty little foot, Alice's arms uncrossed and her hands flung out to each side. "Why are you here? _How_ are you here?"

The entire situation was so bewildering. The unexpected animosity displayed by the girl had surprised and alarmed me, and although her companion had yet to speak, something about the way he stood put my nerves on edge. I was having trouble keeping myself held together, some instinct I didn't recognize making my insides vibrate and my muscles tense up in readiness.

Then, in the silence after Alice's questioning voice had faded away, another made itself heard.

"You brought a _newborn_ here?" The male's incredulous words were accompanied by a single step forward, and something inside me snapped. I heard the sudden sound of snarling, felt movement around me, but my entire being was intent upon the two figures across the snow.

I felt my arms push at the body in front of me, shoving it to the side as my legs launched my weight forward. Nothing else existed but _them_, as with my first step I saw the male grab the female's arm and throw her behind him.

"Stop!"

I didn't—_couldn't_—but I did hesitate for just a fraction of a second as that deep-seated need to obey pushed its way forward. And in that brief sliver of opportunity while compulsion fought its losing battle against instinct, an iron grip fastened itself onto my arm and spun me to the side. I tried desperately to turn back toward my target, only to be thwarted by the sudden clamp of a hand grasping my chin and forcing my head up.

"Isabella, stop!" Fiery eyes bored into mine, one hand on my face holding my gaze steady to his as the other grasped my wrist behind me, pulling my body up hard against him. I tried again to turn my head, only to have Edward's fingers tighten almost painfully around my jaw. "No! Look at me, Isabella. Just me. It's all right. No, don't look over there; look right here, and listen. Listen to me."

I was at war within myself, soft growls making their way past my clenched teeth even as I somehow held back from tearing myself out of his arms. He was holding me too tightly—too close—and the earsplitting screech, the sharp gasp of pain, the horrified cry that played over and over in a continuous loop in the back of my mind wouldn't let me fight my way out of his embrace.

"You need to calm down." Fingers eased their grip on my chin, but Edward's eyes still held mine captive, not allowing me to turn away. "I know you're confused, but you need to…" his other hand loosened minutely, arm relaxing the slightest bit around my waist, and part of my mind calculated the amount of force needed to escape his slackening grip. "…try and control yourself…"

Suddenly Edward's eyes narrowed, and without breaking eye contact he twisted his face a bit to the side. "Jasper!" he growled, and I almost jumped at the menacing tone. "Enough." I didn't know which of us he was talking to, but the forcefulness of his voice, the implacable order inherent in that single word, had the growls stopping in my throat. At the same time, I felt him pull me impossibly closer as his grasp tightened once more.

"Well, it obviously _didn't_ help. Just stay back." Then his attention was fully focused on me once again, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. "Isabella, I need you to listen to me right now. There is no danger. Do you hear me?"

Even though I couldn't see them, I could sense that the others had retreated slightly. I kept my eyes locked with Edward's, letting his words flow around and through me, trying to bring myself back from whatever edge I had just been on the brink of. _No danger. It's all right. Calm. Control._ My own voice of reason began talking to me again as I battled for composure, bolstering my shattered resolve. Edward would do whatever it took to keep me safe; I had no choice but to believe and trust in that. If there were an actual threat, then he would be facing it head-on instead of trying to hold me back.

I focused on my breathing as I continued to wrestle myself back to some semblance of sanity; letting the steady rhythm calm me as I forced my muscles to relax, allowed my body to lean into his. I filled my lungs, felt my chest expand outward, held the air still and deep for several seconds before loosing it in a steady exhalation. Again. And again. Edward's eyes never moved from mine, hard and assessing as they watched me struggle for composure. Gradually his hand loosened around my arm, thumb sweeping lightly across the inside of my wrist before slipping down to take my hand. I sensed a slight movement off to the side, but quite dare turn toward it.

"Two weeks." His head tilted slightly as he spoke, chin angled toward the figures I was trying not to look at, and I frowned in confusion at the apparent non sequitur.

"It apparently _is_ possible." It was almost as if he was answering some question that I couldn't—_oh_.

It wasn't as if I had forgotten about the whole mind-reading thing, since we couldn't really forget anything. But having never actually seen or heard it for myself, I had sort of…well…forgotten about it.

His grip on my chin had loosened, his touch almost—but not quite—gentle now instead of punishing. Unable to help myself, I pushed my face slightly down and to the side, feeling his fingers slip across my cheek and pretending for a moment that it was purposeful. Immediately his entire focus was once again trained on me, eyes watchful and wary, and I dropped my own in shame. I had overreacted, that much was obvious, and embarrassment had me wanting to run far, far away. How could I face them now? What must they think of me? Could I have possibly made any worse of a first impression?

"That might be best." Once more answering a silent question, and I bit back the irritation at having a conversation going on behind my back—a conversation that I had no doubt was about me.

"Isabella?" I looked up. "Are you ready? Or would it be easier if they came here?" I thought about it. I wasn't sure I liked the idea of them coming closer, but I wasn't certain yet if I could trust myself to move without once more losing control of my own body.

"Can I stay here?" With a slight nod, Edward moved from in front of me, dropping his hand from my face. Panicked, I tightened my fingers around his other hand, but he was only moving to stand at my side, turning us both to face the two vampires still hovering by the back corner of the house.

I kept my eyes on the ground as they approached, breathing steadily as I forced my thoughts to stay calm and focused. I could do this. I _would_ do this.

They moved slowly, almost at human speed, and it was several seconds before they finally stood in front of us. Still and silent they remained, and I knew that everyone was waiting on me.

With one last deep breath, I finally forced my eyes up.

There, standing barely an arm's reach away, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, outside of the stranger that stared back at me whenever I came face-to-face with a mirror. She was an inch or two shorter than I, putting her eyes almost dead center across from mine.

"Isabella, this is Alice and her husband Jasper."

"Isabella." There were no extended hands, just the barest nod of the head toward me as those strange eyes continued to stare into mine. I responded without thinking, the habits of a lifetime carrying themselves out in spite of the confusion that held me rooted to the ground.

"It's just Bella." I felt Edward stiffen next to me, but didn't turn my focus from the face in front of mine.

"Bella, then. It's nice to meet you." Her tone was free of any inflection, yet I somehow got the impression that "nice" was overstating things by quite a bit. "This is my husband, Jasper." Repeating Edward's introduction, and I followed her gaze as it finally left mine and traveled to the man standing to her right.

The shock finally broke my paralysis, causing me to gasp as I took a large step back.

He was well over six feet, his lean but muscular body dwarfing Alice's small frame. But it wasn't that which had alarm bells ringing through my head. Neither was it the stone cold, calculating expression on his face as his eyes followed my every move. It was what was directly under his face that had me wanting to flee, my instincts clamoring at me to _run, now,_ before it was too late.

Scars ravaged his neck and jaw; curved half-moons crissed and crossed and tangled and twined in and around each other, until there wasn't an inch of space that wasn't layered and textured with their raised, feathery pattern. Instinct and bitter experience told me what they were, a lighted billboard screaming _dangerous_. A testament to the number of vampires who had ripped into his throat, trying to kill him. How many? Hundreds? Thousands? The same number who had died in the attempt, of that I had no doubt.

The hand still holding onto mine drew me up short as I attempted to retreat yet another step, and my body tensed in response, readying itself. If I couldn't flee, I would have to fight. If I fought, I would die…

"Bella, it's all right." The voice was quiet, reassuring, and I found myself involuntarily turning towards its source. Alice's face was slightly softer than it had been before, her tone almost gentle as she spoke again. "He won't hurt you."

Shifting back toward Jasper, I tried to gauge the truth of that statement. He hadn't so much as taken a single step toward me, but his entire being seemed to focus on and follow my every movement, eyes hard and careful as they watched me closely.

I glanced over at Edward, surprised to find his gaze also fixed upon me. His expression…I had seen it before. Upon waking, just before I had launched myself across the room toward him, he had regarded me with that same wary caution.

Understanding dawned.

This Jasper may have been a fearsome warrior—his scars could attest to that—but he wasn't a threat to me. At least, not as long as I could manage to keep myself together.

It was me. I was the threat. I was the reason he was standing there like a coiled spring, ready to defend his wife and family against the unpredictable and dangerous newborn who had been thrust into their midst.

Setting my chin and straightening my shoulders, I took a step forward, regaining the ground I had relinquished with my attempt at retreat. I kept my expression smooth and calm, a tightening of my left hand around Edward's fingers the only outward betrayal of the nerves that consumed me as I slowly raised my right.

"Hello, Jasper. It's good to meet you." My voice was as steady as my hand, floating in the space between us in the moments before it was engulfed in a much larger one.

"It's a pleasure." I somehow doubted that, but pulled my lips into a smile anyway. I didn't get one in return, and Jasper's gaze briefly flickered over toward Edward before coming back to rest upon my face, a slight crease appearing between his eyes as he released my hand.

"I don't know," Edward murmured, and this time Jasper's head jerked all the way toward him, eyebrows raised.

"No, I can't." _Can't what?_ "Likely for the same reason that you can't feel her. And that Alice apparently can't see her." I had felt her regarding me through this entire exchange, and from the corner of my eye I watched as she shook her head slightly at Jasper's questioning glance. I didn't get it. How could she not see me? She was looking right at me!

"Excuse me?" All eyes turned to me, and not for the first time I found myself thankful for the smooth mask that hid my true feelings. I could fake equanimity, even if I couldn't feel it. "I'm standing right here. And I have a name."

I thought I saw the corners of Alice's mouth twitch, but my main focus was on Edward and the ice-cold stare he leveled at me. "So it would seem." his voice was perfectly matched to his expression, and it was all I could do not to shrink away from its frigid bite.

"Perhaps," Alice broke in, "the two of you would like to share with the rest of the class?" Even though she never moved her regard from me, it was obvious she was talking to the two men.

Edward sighed before answering, some of the ice melting. "Jasper wonders how you're doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Controlling your emotions," Jasper was the one to respond this time. "Not just controlling them; you're somehow…" he frowned, searching for the right word, "hiding them. You were upset, and then it just…disappeared, like you weren't even here anymore. I've never felt anything like it."

"You…felt…"

"Bella?" Alice's expression when I turned her way wasn't exactly sympathetic, but it had lost some more of its hard edge. "What did Edward tell you about us?"

"Um…your names?"

I found myself glad not to be on the receiving end of the look she leveled Edward's way. He narrowed his eyes at her for a few moments before using the grip he still had on my hand to pull me a little closer.

"Remember when I told you that some of us have certain gifts?" I nodded. "Jasper can feel and manipulate the emotions of those around him—calm down a room of angry people, for example. And Alice…she can see things that might happen, things that are coming."

I stared for a few beats, trying to take it all in. "But, you said…you said that not many of you—of us, I mean—had…could do stuff…does everyone in your fam—"

"No," he interrupted. "None of the others. Which is one of the reasons why they were the welcoming committee. Alice isn't used to surprises. She always sees when another group of our kind is coming near." Which actually explained a lot.

"But she didn't see us coming."

"No."

"And Jasper can't do whatever it is that he does to me?"

I looked back to him for confirmation, receiving a small shake of the head in answer. "Apparently not."

I wasn't sure how that made me feel. Relieved, of course, because I truly did not relish the thought of somebody being able to know what I was feeling. Or—even worse—change those feelings to suit their own whim. But I also had to wonder what was wrong with me, why nothing about me seemed to work right. And…this meant that it really _was_ me. Edward's inability to read my mind had nothing to do with any connection we may have. It wasn't an indication that I had been designed and created just especially for him; that the single overriding purpose of my existence, the reason I had never felt as if I belonged anywhere, was that I was always meant to be his.

I had never consciously thought about it, but I now realized that somewhere deep inside the theory had taken hold and grown roots. I had used it to justify the ease with which I could turn away from my old life and embrace my new existence, could view my attacker—my murderer—as lover and protector. It was easy to absolve us both of any responsibility for our decisions and actions, if they were being dictated by some all-powerful fate decreeing that we were destined for each other.

It was surprisingly painful to let it go now, and accept the fact that I was simply an anomaly to everyone.

I was pulled from my musings by Edward's sigh, and I looked up to find his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. Before I had a chance to ask what was wrong, Jasper's voice pulled my attention away.

"The others are growing impatient."

Edward nodded. "Might as well tell them to come out. Emmett may not survive the suspense if we make him wait much longer."

As Jasper called to the unseen vampires—telling them it was okay to come out, but to move slowly—Edward let go of my hand and moved behind me, grasping my upper arms in a steady grip.

Even though I had accepted by now that staggering beauty was simply a trait universal to all vampires, it was still slightly disconcerting to find myself in the midst of so much of it. But as I was surrounded by and introduced to each of the breathtakingly gorgeous women who approached, it wasn't their beauty that held me transfixed.

I hardly noticed Kate and Irina's welcoming smiles, or Tanya's slightly more reserved one. The hostile glower I received from the blonde goddess who turned out to be Rosalie barely registered, as did the much more enthusiastic greeting from the mountain of a man at her side.

It was their eyes that caught and held my attention, just as Alice's had when I saw them for the first time. As Jasper's would have, if I hadn't been distracted by his scars.

All of the legends that I knew of the Cold Ones spoke of their pale skin, frightening beauty, and—above all—their red eyes. Conversely, the seven pairs that watched me varied only slightly in shade—from rich butterscotch to deep ocher—but all with the same tawny gold tone. They bore no resemblance to Edward's deep red, or my own fiery scarlet. Were they some sort of sub-species? But if that were the case, then wouldn't Edward have the same characteristics? Nothing quite made sense, so I filed the subject away for now.

I had been so preoccupied with the color of everyone's eyes, that I hadn't paid any attention to the fact that there appeared to be two people missing from the group until Edward asked where Carlisle and Esme were.

"They should be back in a couple of days; they're in the States, making arrangements for the new house." Once again it was Alice who spoke up, the others seemingly content to stand back and watch the exchange.

"You're moving?" Edward's tone was clipped and curt, his hands tightening almost painfully on my arms. My own head was swimming as I tried to keep up. Moving? To the States? After everything it had taken to get here?

"It's time. We've already stayed longer than we should, and if we leave it too much longer people will start to become suspicious."

"Especially if people are going to start coming up missing, since you so very thoughtfully brought a newborn with you." Rosalie stepped forward, shaking off Emmett's hand when he tried to grab her arm. "What on earth were you thinking, Edward? Do you have any idea how bad this could be? I know you don't give a damn about any of us, but how about some common courtesy? Or is that too much—"

"Rose," The big one tried to interrupt, and she turned on him with a snarl.

"No, Emmett! I want to know why he thinks he can just do whatever he wants, and damn the consequences for everybody else!" Turning back toward us she took several more steps forward, causing my body to tense and vibrate as she approached.

"Back off, Rosalie." Edward's voice brooked no argument as it rang out from right behind my ear, and she stopped in her tracks even as her lip curled up into a sneer.

"What's wrong, Edward? Don't like hearing the truth?"

"I could care less what you think about me, as you know very well. However, I thought even you wouldn't be stupid enough as to provoke a two-week-old newborn. Especially one whose mind I can't read, emotions Jasper can't control, and future Alice can't see."

Rather than causing her to back away, his words only seemed to egg her on further as she turned her sneer on me. "Her? You think I'm afraid of your little pet? I'd like to see her try something."

Everything happened quickly after that, actions so fast they were almost simultaneous. Rosalie took one more step forward, eyes firmly fixed on me. The growl I had been trying to hold back finally bubbled up out of my throat, my body coiling to spring even as Edward yanked me behind him and surged forward. Everybody else seemed to be frozen in place as the two faced off barely a foot apart, glaring at each other.

"Touch her and I'll rip your throat out." His voice was quiet, almost soft, yet with an underlying steel that left no doubt as to the truth of his words. Apparently Rosalie heard the same thing I did, because her eyes widened with shock and she took what was most likely an involuntary step back under the force of his stare. For just a fraction of an instant I thought I saw hurt flash across her face before rage eclipsed everything else. With a hiss she turned and stalked back toward the houses, a door slamming behind her with a resounding thud.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Emmett sighed and let out a slight chuckle. "Well, that went better than expected."

Some small sound of disbelief escaped me, and his eyes landed on me just before he broke into full-blown laughter. "Don't worry, kid. You'll get used to it. Life's never boring when Eddie here comes to visit." With one last quiet chuckle and a shake of his head, he turned and followed Rosalie into the house, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.

The one called Irina was the first to break it, clearing her throat and shifting uncomfortably.

"Though she may have been a little…overly dramatic…about it, Rose did raise a valid point. Not that we're not delighted to have you, Edward, but we really can't afford to draw any undue attention to ourselves." The smile she turned on me was politely apologetic.

"Be assured, our presence is not intended to cause you any trouble or hardship."

"It may not be your intention, but you have to realize that it will be unavoidable if the two of you stay. Keeping a newborn fed without attracting too much attention is difficult enough even in a large city. Out here it would be impossible."

"That won't be a problem."

"Maybe not for you; you can just pick up and leave when questions start arising. But this is our home!"

"I don't eat people." The words blurted out, unplanned and unexpected, and all eyes were suddenly focused on me once again. "Um…I mean…" I couldn't figure out why she was so concerned about me drawing unwelcome attention when there were already nine vampires in residence. But, whatever her reasoning, I didn't want my presence to be the cause of any problems within the family. "I sort of have a…alternate…food source."

Suddenly nobody was looking at me any longer. Instead, there were varying shades of disbelief and incredulity being directed toward Edward, who seemed to be locked into some sort of silent conversation with Alice. Finally, her strange amber eyes shifted back toward me, regarding me with some strange expression that I couldn't decipher before once again settling back on Edward, something he read in her mind causing him to shake his head slightly.

"Trust me, it wasn't my decision."

This time it wasn't difficult at all to read the look on her face when she turned back toward me. I wasn't sure exactly what I had done to earn it, but I couldn't deny the small bit of satisfaction I felt. I doubted that many had the opportunity to take Alice by surprise, and I had managed to do it twice within a span of less than an hour.

"So that's why you're here." And now it was my turn to be confused. Again.

"Wait, you know why we're here?"

"I have a pretty good idea." Whatever it was, she seemed to find it pretty darned amusing, which only served to irritate me even more than I already was. How did she know, after mere minutes, what I couldn't figure out after days of wondering and questioning?

"Well, do you think you could let me in on the secret?" That cut through the amusement, at least, replacing it with yet another incredulous look.

"You mean you don't know?" She turned to Edward before I even had a chance to answer. "You haven't told her?" He, as usual, had nothing to say, fixing her with his trademarked impassive stare in lieu of an answer.

"Told me what?" My voice was raised in aggravation, and I felt more than saw Jasper tense up a little at my tone.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" I turned toward the impatient voice in time to see Tanya make a frustrated motion with her hands. "You're not the only one who doesn't eat people, okay?" My ears heard her words, but my mind was having some trouble comprehending them. Not the only one? Seeing my confusion, she rolled her eyes before motioning to the others in the group. "Didn't you wonder why our eyes aren't red?"

"Tanya…" The dark-haired one—Kate, I thought—started to interject, and Tanya turned toward her with a huff.

"I'm sorry, but really? He just shows up here out of the blue—"

"He couldn't have known that Alice wouldn't see—"

"And I guess now we know why! So that we can babysit—"

"Of course we'll help teach her—"

The voices continued to parry back and forth, but I had stopped listening, my entire focus concentrated on the being who had been the center of my existence for the last weeks. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely even breathe as I took in every aspect and feature of his face, looking for something—anything—that would negate what I had just heard. Even just the tiniest hint that he hadn't lied to me from the very first day. That all the grief and heartache hadn't been in vain. That I hadn't killed for nothing.

But there was nothing there. Nothing but a stone face and fathomless eyes gazing back at me as something I couldn't name bubbled closer and closer to the surface.

"Bella?" As if from a great distance I vaguely heard Jasper saying my name, but I didn't answer. I couldn't; not if I was to keep from doing…I didn't even know what. Screaming? Running? Tearing everybody around me limb from limb for no other reason than that they were within reach? Dissolving into mindless hysterics?

"Jasper, get everybody back into the houses." Even though his voice was quiet and even, there was something underlying Edward's tone that had the larger vampire obeying without question or comment, herding Alice and the others back the way they had come from. We stayed motionless until the quiet click of the door signaled their reentry, then without another word he started walking in the opposite direction.

I followed without thinking about it, keeping my eyes fixed directly between his shoulder blades as we made our way through the trees, leaving the others further and further behind.

Somewhere deep inside was a feeling of amazement that I was able to function at all, given the terrifying intensity of the emotions that were threating to eat their way through the walls I was trying to keep them contained within, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the dam burst.

Before that happened, though, we arrived at our apparent destination.

The place where Edward finally stopped and turned around to face me was as nondescript and featureless as the rest of the landscape around us, any natural beauty hidden beneath a thick blanket of white. The sun, which had barely risen above the horizon, was already nearly hidden behind the mountains that rose in the distance, casting everything in the gauzy robes of a gloomy twilight. It didn't matter in any case. I didn't need any light to illuminate the carefully blank expression on his face; it was one I was all too used to seeing.

The silence stretched out thick and heavy between us, and for once I was grateful for it. I didn't want words. I didn't want explanations or answers. Nothing could justify this, and I wasn't ready to live with the consequences that would surely follow once he had tried and failed. I wanted to stay securely wrapped up in my safe cocoon of shock, where the wolf at the door could be forever denied entry.

But still, even with all of that, in the end it was I who broke first.

"You knew." I barely choked the words out, my voice shaky and thick. The shock was beginning to wane, betrayal and anger burning through my veins as the full weight of what he had done finally began to settle over me.

"All along, from the very beginning, you knew." Coming more quickly now, fast and furious the accusations spewed forth, the break in the dam growing larger and larger with every second that passed. "And you said _nothing_. I stood there for _days_, going insane over what I had become, and you never said a word about there being another way. You stood there and let me cry, let me scream, let me go on and on about how I couldn't kill anyone else, and never once told me that it didn't have to be that way."

With every word my wrath grew, as I remembered all the times I had agonized over what I thought I had to do. How it had killed me inside to know that I was going to hurt him, and how that knowledge had somehow been more painful even than the idea of my own death. And now to find out that it had all been so pointless? That I had merely suffered at the whim of the secret he kept?

I tried to turn around, to walk away, to slam a lid down over my bubbling temper before I lost all control, but only managed a few steps before I was once again spinning toward him.

"I was going to kill myself, Edward! Did that mean nothing to you? Even when I was going to go to the wolves, you still didn't say anything! Why couldn't you have said something then, instead of threatening…you would have forced even more death on my head, and it wasn't even necessary! None of it was ever necessary!"

Still he just stood there, silent and unmoving, while my anger rained down upon him and my screams echoed in the stillness of the air. Not even the wind dared to compete with me now, only the hushed whiteness of the snow-covered landscape there to bear witness. And much the same way that my voice echoed across the silence, something inside of me seemed to mirror the desolation of the land around us. The bright fire of my rage—even with as hotly as it burned—somehow only seemed to shine a light on the forlorn emptiness that lived in my heart, which in turn only served to further infuriate it.

"I…" and now my voice almost broke, too weak to stand up to the weight of the emotion that filled it. "I begged you. I got down on my knees and…was that what you were waiting for?"

"Enough." There was a low hum of anger in his voice, and normally I would have heeded the warning that I had pushed too hard, that this was one of those battles that I should back away from. But I was too far gone to pay attention to any warnings right now.

"No, it's not enough! It will never be enough! You don't know what I went through! You don't—"

"And whose fault is that?" I almost flinched at his sudden roar, only the strength of my own fury keeping me from cowering away as he closed the distance between us.

"You never said a word, Isabella. Not one damn word! It was bad enough when you were driving both of us crazy for those three days, but at least then I knew that there was _something_ wrong, even if I did have to resort to extremes to get you to tell me what it was. But after that? Nothing! Nothing to say that you had a problem with the things I told you that day. Nothing to say that you couldn't live with the thought of feeding as I do. Not one single goddamn word to say that you felt strongly enough about it to kill yourself over!"

"I did—"

"Not until you were backed against a wall, and had no other choice!"

"But even then, you still didn't tell me there was an alternative!"

"You didn't give me a chance to—"

"That's bull! You had chances! But you would rather threaten and force! You never gave me a choice, not about anything!"

"If that were true, you would be dead right now. That very first night you had a choice, you knew what I was, and you gave yourself to me, anyway. You _chose_ to be mine."

"For the night, not forever!"

"You didn't seem to be complaining about forever when you were screaming my name and begging for more, were you?"

"That's not fair." My voice had dropped from a yell to a whisper, the breath all but knocked out of me at his accusation. He was right, and as much as I may want to I couldn't deny it. As long as he was making me feel good, it was easy to avoid reality and pretend that we existed in our own little bubble where the rest of the world didn't dare to intrude.

It was no great news to me that I was a coward, but it still hurt to have it thrown back in my face.

His answer was a sharp, quiet laugh. "Fair? What about any of this is _fair_?"

"You lied to me." Scrambling now, desperately trying to retain my grasp on the anger that was slowly beginning to slip through my fingers. But he wouldn't let me, his furious eyes meeting mine as his head jerked sharply from side to side.

"No," he spat. "You can't put that on me. Hate me all you want for the things that I've done, but don't you dare try and say that I ever lied to you."

"You didn't tell me—"

"Which is not the same thing."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

"Oh, really? Do you truly want to get into a debate about who has been more economical with the truth, _Isabella_?" He stared at me for a few moments, waiting for me to respond, but I couldn't think of a single thing to say.

It wasn't the first time I had been brought face to face with my own hypocrisy; I was just as guilty of withholding as Edward was. And the fallout from those decisions was in no way alleviated by the fact that I had always managed to justify my lack of forthrightness in my own mind.

The silence stretched out for several seconds before, apparently realizing that I wasn't going to answer his challenge, he took a step back and scrubbed a hand against the side of his head. Dropping it back down to his side with a deep sigh, he continued.

"I'm not going to stand here and parse words with you. We are what we are. Vampires drink blood; that's just the way it is. That's how we _live_. For the vast majority, humans are food and nothing more. There are very few of us who place any level of value on human life at all, and even fewer who even consider trying to abstain. Drinking animal blood? It's an anomaly. It goes against every instinct, especially for young ones whose entire beings are ruled by those instincts. There was no reason to ever consider it as a viable option; not until you finally made it clear that there _was_ no other choice."

Time passed, although how much of it I couldn't say. Edward's final arguments had acted like an arrow through the heart of my anger, piercing through and deflating it in one sure stroke, leaving me floundering without any idea of where we went from here. We both simply stood there, looking away from each other, unsure of what came next. Or at least I was. As usual, I was completely in the dark about whatever was passing through his mind.

"Will you at least help me understand something?" He didn't respond, but I continued anyway. "Why didn't you tell me? About your family's eating habits? It's not as if it could stay a secret once we got here, and you couldn't have thought…you had to know that I would be…upset when I realized you had kept it a secret."

He shook his head slightly, sounding tired when he answered. "What would have been the point? You were going to find out eventually, anyway, and it's not like you would have taken it any better if it had come out sooner. If you were going to hate me either way…"

"Then why did you even bring me here?" I cried, frustrated. "Why create the situation in the first place?"

He didn't look at me, turning away instead so that I could only see part of his profile. He took a deep breath and looked at the ground for a long moment before raising his head once more.

"This life you've chosen, it's not easy."

"I know that—"

"No. You think you do, because of what happened on the way up here…but you really have no clue. That was nothing. As the weeks pass…months…years of never feeling completely satisfied, of constantly having to curb your appetite, resist what every fiber of your being calls out for…it never goes away. It never gets better. Easier. There's temptation everywhere, around every corner. A single drop of blood from something as simple and commonplace as a paper cut can be enough to break you.

"Even if you try to isolate yourself, move out into the middle of nowhere and eliminate all contact with the human race, there's always the chance of running across some random hiker out in the woods while you're hunting. They're everywhere. There's literally no place in the world where you're guaranteed to be safe."

"What does that have to do—?"

"Because you're going to need help," he interrupted. "You have to have a support system—others who know, who understand what you're going through. Who have been where you are now, and face the same issues, the same temptations, day in and day out. Otherwise, you're practically doomed to failure from the very start."

"But…I have you."

Shaking his head, Edward dragged one hand through his hair, holding on and pulling when he got to the back of his head.

"No. That's not enough. This life…you don't understand what it takes from you. The commitment it requires."

"I'm committed! Whatever it takes, I'm willing to—"

"I'm not!" Finally turning to face me, he cut me off once again. "This whole idea of abstinence and self-denial…that's your choice, not mine. I want nothing to do with it. I turned my back on that way of life long ago, and I have no intention of ever going back."

"I never asked you to! And I never would! Is that what you think? That I expect you to change what you are? How you live? What did I ever do that would make you think that?"

"No!"

"No." Quieter this time. "That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it…" My words trailed off before I could complete the thought, as our entire conversation replayed itself in my mind. Edwards's words suddenly taking on a meaning I had missed at first.

"For me. We're here…this is for me?" Wonder and disbelief were clearly evident in my voice, and Edward scoffed slightly.

"There isn't much I—" The thought was bitten off before it could be completed, his jaw tight as he once again turned away from me. But I was too distracted by the rest of what my mind was finally putting together to give much thought to what he hadn't said. Pieces that I should have seen before now falling into place.

The distance and withdrawal he had shown the first time he mentioned traveling to meet his family, which had been just after my first hunt. The desperation when we arrived back at the house. Finally explaining why he took me, and his answer when I asked why he was telling me now.

"_I need for you to have a reason to stay."_

Because I would need a reason. Once I understood what he had kept from me, what he had done…once I was brought to his family, who he knew would take me in and teach me what I needed to know…once I no longer depended on him for my very existence…

Everything made a horrifying kind of sense. All the stony silences in the face of my questions, the conflicting rush and reluctance about coming here, even down to the way he seemed to be trying to commit my body to memory as I lay beneath him in the snow.

"Don't do that." The words came out in a rush, directed more at the past than the present. "Don't say goodbye."

Startled eyes met mine as I closed the distance between us, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as I pressed my face into his shirt. "Don't say goodbye." Barely able to get the words past the lump in my throat, but somehow managing to force them out. He had to hear, had to understand. "You can't. I need you. You can't."

His arms came up, and at first I thought it was to hold me, until his hands wrapped around my wrists and slowly pulled them from his neck. I whimpered when he pushed me away, finally looking at him when his hands left mine and cupped my face instead, forcing my head up.

"You don't." I immediately opened my mouth to argue, but he continued on without giving me the chance. "The others will take care of you. They'll teach you what you need to know, help you—"

"No!" I cut him off, shaking my head wildly. "No. I don't want them, I want you. You said you wanted me, too. That you needed me. You said…you said…" The words jumbled up somewhere between my brain and my mouth, refusing all semblance of coherency and coming out as little more than breathless sobs. "I don't need you to take care of me, I just need you. You can't…can't take…you can't go!"

"Damn it!" A low growl ripped through the chest that I was suddenly crushed up against, hands fisted against my back. "Why are you _doing_ this to me?" he said through his teeth, his tone inexplicably angry. "Isn't it hard enough, without all this? You can't do…say things like that…not if you don't mean it."

"I do! I do mean it."

"You don't."

"Don't tell me how I feel." I felt him shake his head back and forth above mine, but somehow it didn't feel like denial as his arms tightened even further around me. It felt more like surrender. "I do." Pushing just a little bit more. "I need you."

"Again. Say it again." Desperation and need, as close to pleading as I had ever heard him come. So I did. Need and want and forever, again and again and again, until there was no more breath for talking. Until I couldn't form words at all. Until the snow was soft beneath me and he was hard above me and every trace of goodbye was wiped away.

* * *

I think we're still on track to wrap this up by chapter 12. I finally caved and joined twitter—my name there is Kissyfur10—and will try to get into the habit of posting updates on my writing progress there.

If you haven't read Ooza's amazing story, "Here In The Garden Of Sin" already, then you should. "Edward has spent his entire existence longing for one thing. When he finally gets it, his careful control starts slipping. It doesn't matter to his savior, she's dying either way. Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. ExB/AU/OOC/Dark"

She writes Darkward like I only wish that I could. And best of all? It's complete!


	10. Chapter 10

I'm so sorry for not responding to reviews for the last chapter. I could use the excuse that the first couple of times I tried FFN wouldn't let me (which is the truth), but that doesn't excuse the fact that I never went back later and corrected the matter. I promise to try and do better this time.

ETA: Oops. Realized that I forgot to add a recap. Here goes: Edward kidnaps Bella, ends up giving her the choice between dying now or dying later, and they spend the night having really hot sex. 3 days later she wakes up as a vampire, they do it some more, then he takes her to a meadow where he has her first meal waiting. She eats 4 people, then flips her shit when she realizes what she did. She decides to kill herself, since she can't bear to kill any more people, and Edward throws a huge temper tantrum before showing her how to hunt animals. He says he is going to take her to meet his family, then they go back to the house and have sex some more. He finally tells her why he changed her instead of killing her, and she admits that she wouldn't change things if she could. They find out that the Cullens are in Alaska, and Edward leaves Bella alone in the house overnight while he goes to meet somebody about creating a new identity for her (because you need ID to cross the borders going in and out of the US). On their way to Alaska, Edward finds some interesting ways to keep Bella's bloodlust in check, but only after she succeeds in chewing on him a little bit. Their arrival takes the Cullen's by surprise, because apparently Bella screws with Alice's ability to see a future that involves her. During the confrontation, it comes out that all of the Cullen's are vegetarians, and Bella realizes that Edward has been keeping the truth from her from the very beginning. She's pissed and rips him a new one before breaking down and begging him not to leave her.

I don't own it.

* * *

Edward was talking to me.

Like, actually talking. That thing that happens when one person asks a question and the other person answers it before asking one of their own? Yeah, we were doing that.

"Do you remember your favorite color?" He seemed to be fascinated with my life as a human, trying to get as many details as possible. Apparently, it was unusual for me to remember so much of my previous life, and there was no telling how long it would last before everything started fading away. Personally, I didn't understand why he even cared; I wasn't that girl any longer, so what did it matter what my favorite flower had been, or what movies I had liked or hated, or what kind of books I liked to read? But I did my best to answer, digging through my distant and faded memories for the pieces he was searching for.

"I'm not sure I had one. Brown I guess, if I had to pick something."

"Brown?" I could practically hear him raising that skeptical eyebrow.

"Sure. What's wrong with brown?"

"Nothing. I just expected something…brighter."

"Brown is a perfectly good color. I miss brown. Back home it was everywhere you looked—dirt, rocks, tree trunks. It was natural. Simple. Up in Washington, everything that's supposed to be brown is all covered up with squishy green stuff. So before you ask what my least favorite color was, I'll just go ahead and say right now that it was probably green."

I felt a slight vibration against my back. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes." He was completely unapologetic, and I briefly considered trying to drag forth some little bit of righteous indignation. But I was so comfortable and relaxed as I leaned there, with my back pressed to his front and his arms wrapped around my waist, that I just couldn't be bothered.

"Feeling like that, Forks must have been a difficult place for you to live."

At that I did react, twisting around just enough to shoot him a glare. "Oh, no you don't! You got your answer, now it's my turn."

"Okay, Okay!" He threw up his hands in surrender, flashing that lopsided grin that I had only seen a handful of times, before once again closing his arms back around me. "Go ahead."

"Tell me about Alice."

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific. What about her do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, you can explain that little back and forth about visitors and phones and 1964."

"You don't ask for much, do you?"

I let my silence speak for itself. He wasn't getting out of this one.

With a sigh, he settled me against him once more.

"I told you that Alice sees things. Well, soon after she was changed, she saw Carlisle's family, and that she was going to be a part of it. It took her a few decades to find them; she and Jasper showed up in the 1950's. When another decade had gone by and I hadn't made an appearance yet, she got impatient. She decided to take matters into her own hands and hunt me down."

"She already knew about you?"

"Isn't that another question?"

"Noooo, it's just…clarifying a point from my first question."

He huffed a bit, but it was easy to tell that there was no actual annoyance in it. "The best we can figure, Alice was changed sometime in the early 1920's. I didn't leave until 10 years or so after that, so she had about a decade's worth of visions of me with the family. She already considered herself my sister before we ever met."

So Edward was changed in 1918, and left the rest of the family sometime in the early 1930's. I mentally filed the subject away as something that I definitely wanted to explore further another time, and turned my attention back to the subject of Alice. "So, 1964?"

"I came back from hunting one night to find her sitting on the living room couch. She introduced herself, called me by name, seemed to know everything about me, and asked me when I was coming home."

I snorted. "Really?"

"Really." He nodded.

"That would have been…wow…kind of freaky. I take it that wasn't the only time she showed up out of the blue?"

Edward growled into my hair. "You certainly do like to push, don't you?"

"Hey!" I squirmed as his breath tickled the back of my neck. "It's still part of the original question! You know, visitors and phones?"

"Pushing. Always pushing." But it was said with what I was sure was a smirk. "No, it wasn't the only time. She's popped up now and then over the years, when she decides it's been too long since I've come around."

"Still, it must be nice to know that there are people out there who care about you, and miss you when you're not around."

I didn't pursue it when he asked his next question without giving me an answer, falling instead back into an easy back and forth for a few minutes before once again attempting to dig a little deeper.

"Why does Rosalie hate me?" She hadn't been overtly hostile since that first meeting, but otherwise made no attempt to disguise her animosity. Usually she just avoided being around me, for which I was grateful. Avoidance was better than the sneers and snide comments she threw my way when we did happen to end up in the same vicinity.

"She doesn't hate you."

I made a disbelieving sound. Hate, loathe, strongly dislike…it all boiled down to the same thing.

"I mean it. Rosalie is much too self-involved to expend that kind of effort on anyone or anything that doesn't directly affect her."

"But she always—"

"I know. But trust me when I say that it has nothing to do with you personally."

"It sure _feels _personal," I grumbled.

"I didn't say it wasn't personal, just that it's nothing to do with you."

"But—"

Suddenly I was picked up and swung around, my legs moving to straddle his as I was set back down. I waited for him to say something, but no words seemed to be forthcoming. I couldn't help the disappointment that had my shoulders drooping, my hands falling down from where they had settled on his chest. This reemergence of the evasions and silences that I thought had been left behind came as a harsh blow. Why? What was the point of secrecy now? Hadn't I already learned the worst?

"Why won't you tell me?" My voice was soft, and I couldn't seem to make myself look up.

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Because…you say it doesn't have anything to do with me, but it does." I felt the air move as he pulled in a breath, and shook my head before he had a chance to speak. "Maybe I'm not the cause, but it does affect me. I'm walking such a thin line here, and what if she's the one who pushes it over the edge? I deserve to know _why_."

"What are you talking about? What does Rose have to do with anything?"

"I'm talking about the fact that just me being here is causing all sorts of problems. Jasper doesn't like having a newborn around; it makes him nervous, which puts everyone on edge. I'm messing up Alice's visions, which puts everybody at unnecessary risk. Emmett's the only one who seems to actually like me, but there's no way he's going to go against his own wife if it comes down to it." I didn't mention Tanya's polite distance, or my suspicions about its cause. She and her sisters would be staying here when the Cullens departed for their new home, so whatever she thought of the situation really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"You're being ridiculous. It's not as if there's going to be some sort of vote on whether or not you can stay."

"You don't know that. What if when Carlisle and Esme get here tomorrow they're as unhappy at having me dumped on them as the rest of the family?"

"That's not going to happen."

"How do you _know_? You said that I had nothing to worry about! _'They are going to positively adore you,_' you said. So forgive me if I'm showing a little doubt as to your fortune telling abilities!" Suddenly struck by the ridiculousness of having a disagreement with someone while perched on their lap, I tried to rise to my feet, only to be stopped by Edward's hands wrapping around my arms and pulling me back down.

"Listen to me, you exasperating girl. You are worrying over _nothing_. Nobody is going to send you away. Nobody wants you gone. Not Jasper—he knows better than anyone the difficulty of trying to adhere to this way of life. As long as you aren't a direct threat to Alice, he'll do whatever he can to keep you safe."

I opened my mouth to argue the point that I _was _a threat to Alice, inasmuch as I seemed to be taking away her ability to see danger coming, only to be silenced by a harsh look before a single syllable could escape.

"As for Alice, I'm not certain she'd let you leave if you tried. Not until she's figured out a way to see past whatever block you seem to be putting up, at least." That was a point which I didn't have much choice but to concede. Although to say that she was friendly would be a definite stretch, there was no denying that Alice had thawed considerably since our first meeting. Or that she was completely fascinated by my ability to somehow keep everybody locked out, and equally determined to find some way around it.

Edward moved on to telling me how Carlisle and Esme would never send away anybody who needed their help, but by this point I had pretty much lost interest in the subject. The way his lips moved as he spoke, the fire in his eyes and the passion in his voice as he tried to make his point, the way his hands felt on the bare skin of my arms and the rest of him felt between my legs, all had my mind wandering in a much more pleasant direction.

Reaching forward, I placed one finger against his lips, stopping his flow of words mid-sentence.

"Okay."

He blinked once, and then again. "What?"

"Okay. I believe you. I'm overreacting, and everything's going to be fine. Are we done now?" I started to lean forward, only to find myself flat on my back with his knees still firmly pressed between my legs, his body looming closely over my own.

"We're done," his face was mere inches above mine, voice a low growl rumbling up from his chest, "When I say we're done." But I could see the corner of his mouth trying not to pull up, the sparkle that didn't quite manage to hide behind that cold gaze. And as much as I wanted to play the game, to give him his struggle and eventual conquest, I couldn't help the smile that felt like it wanted to split my face in half. The giggle I managed to suppress, but there was no keeping that smile inside.

Of the many lessons I had learned over the past weeks, the one that I had most taken to heart was that happiness was a fleeting and precious thing, and was to be taken and appreciated wherever it was found. Doubts and fears and insecurities would always be there, waiting in the wings for their chance to reemerge at the nearest opportunity, but it was okay to push them aside and just live in the moment every once in a while.

And in _this_ moment right now, with my arms full of beautiful boy who was looking at me with eyes that tried to be hard but were so very soft, and a mouth that wanted to smile, and kiss, and whisper sweet things against my lips…across my skin…into my ear…I was purely full of joy.

Joy that not even Edward himself could dismiss as he went stiff and still above me, staring down at me with some strange expression I couldn't place. Still smiling up at him, I let my hands slip behind his head, tracing the back of his neck lightly as I exerted gentle pressure to try and bring his lips to mine.

But rather than coming down to meet me, he instead brought one hand up to my face, a single fingertip pressing against the center of my bottom lip before tracing it up to the corner, feather-light touch in sharp contrast to the intensity of…_whatever_ it was that I couldn't quite decipher on his face, in his eyes.

And even though it wasn't the same look, something about his actions and demeanor brought me back to the day before yesterday, when he looked and touched and tried so hard to prepare for goodbye.

It wasn't the same, but my body tensed underneath him in reaction to the memory, fingers tightening around his neck as if to keep him held hostage.

It wasn't the same, but my smile disappeared—flash frozen for half an instant before it fractured, the splintered remnants blown away in the wind that never seemed to completely die away. Along with it went…whatever that had been…and as I finally managed to pull him down into me I told myself that I was glad to see it go. And I was. I _was_.

But somewhere deep inside was this feeling that I had missed something. Like when you're driving down the road and you catch a glimpse of somebody as they pass in the opposite direction. Something about them strikes you as familiar, and in the brief seconds before they pass out of sight your brain frantically shuffles through all the faces stored in its vaults, trying to place—and then they're gone, behind you and out of your life, and the moment has passed. But even as you forget about it and move on with your day, something nags at the back of your mind. Some gut feeling that you should have known that face, and that if you had only had a bit more time to think about it…

Tongues twined and stroked, and soon enough kisses led to where kisses _always _lead. But even as clothing was shed and discarded, and I arched and moaned under the hands that touched and played with me, something in the back of my mind still kept trying to put together that missed connection. Something that said I should have looked harder, instead of reacting out of blind emotion.

But our kind is easily distracted, and the feeling of lean hips pressing in hard between my thighs sent all other thoughts spiraling out of my head. By the time he pushed his way inside, the focus of my universe had narrowed down to nothing but the two of us, the writhing and thrashing of our bodies digging us farther and farther down into the hard-packed snow that was the closest thing we had to a bed.

The rest of the night passed in similar fashion, with the slip and slide of skin and hands and mouths, occasionally interspersed with the scattered remains of conversations started and abruptly abandoned.

There was no rising sun to signal the beginning of a new day; instead, the morning announced itself with an interruption of a different kind. I should have expected it, since the day before had started exactly the same way; yet it was still something of a shock when Edward stilled above me, hands tightening around my hips as his face twisted in irritation.

"Edwa—" I broke off with a gasp as he suddenly sat back on his heels, pulling on me until my ass was resting on his thighs, only my shoulders and head still touching the ground. Gripping hard around my thigh with one hand, he reached the other out toward my arm, taking hold of my wrist and bringing my own hand down to just above where we were joined. Once he had it where he wanted it, he let go and grabbed on just below my waist, digging his fingers in to hold me steady as his hips picked up speed and force.

"Oh!" Letting my head fall back, I felt my hand slip away from where he had placed it, fingers digging deeply into the snow that offered no resistance. I felt the familiar tingling numbness start to work its way through my limbs, my legs falling open and boneless around his hips as he quickened his pace even more.

"No." Once again he grabbed for my hand, this time slapping it down hard enough to bring a sharp yelp. "Touch yourself." I jerked my head up, eyes flying back open to find him staring down at me with intense concentration. Touch myself? Dazedly, I felt my head shake back and forth. I couldn't…could I? With him right there? Watching?

Narrowing his eyes, he yanked me even harder into him, fingers almost hurting as they dug in roughly. "We don't have much time, and I'm not stopping until you come. So unless you want to do it in front of an audience, I suggest you make it fast."

What? Comprehension was slow, my mind refusing at first to interpret his words. Time? Audience? What was he…?

When realization hit, it came with the sudden force of a hammer blow. It was morning; time to make our way back to the little row of houses. And just like yesterday, we were late. And just like yesterday, someone was coming to collect us.

_I was sitting on Edward's lap, my legs wrapped around his back and arms draped over his shoulders, fingers twining through his hair as his lips pressed softly underneath my jaw. "Stop trying to distract me! It won't work, Edward. I'm on to you." I could hear the laughter in my own voice, so it wasn't surprising at all that he didn't take me seriously._

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

_I snorted. "Seriously? Hanes and Playtex? Underwear in a package I could maybe understand, but you bought me a bra in a box, Edward. A box. Don't you think—" I broke off when he stiffened underneath me, going completely still for an instant before quickly lifting me off of him and making a grab for the nearest piece of clothing._

"_Get dressed." He tossed the bra in question toward me before quickly stepping into his pants._

"_What are—"_

"_We have less than ten seconds before Emmett comes over that hill. Get dressed."_

Panic and something else seized hold of me, causing every muscle in my body to tighten reflexively. An unnamable little sound escaped from between his clenched teeth at the same time that my hips twisted up, seeking out a repeat of the burst of sensation that the unexpected press of my fingers had caused.

"Yes. Like that. Again. Do it again." His words came out in soft grunts, his eyes having left mine to focus in on my hand lying there just below my stomach. Hesitantly, I moved my fingers again, biting back a cry as my hips once more bucked up into them. It was easier, somehow, with his gaze not fixed on mine. I could close my eyes, hold myself in the safety of darkness while my fingers slipped across slick flesh, search for that long-forgotten feeling of being sixteen and curious, alone under the covers with the bedroom door locked while I searched out the secrets locked inside my own body.

_Whispers and giggles overheard in passing; secretive looks and blushing confessions traded across the library table as I sit nearby, unnoticed and unremarked. A gaggle of awestruck girls gathered around to hear the tale and yes, he used his fingers, and oh it was awkward, and it wasn't as good as I can do it myself._

_Mulling it over for days, try to push it away but still it comes back, again and again. That dark curiosity, until I can't deal with it any longer. I have to know._

_Home alone. Renee with Phil for the evening, and I know it will be hours and hours, but still I turn the lock on my bedroom door, keep my pajamas on until I'm safely cocooned in bed, blanket pulled completely over my head. My heart thrumming so loud as I pull my sweats off, and I can't go any farther. I feel so exposed already, the anticipation bringing a shiver of…excitement? Trepidation? I don't know, but I know I can't be bare._

_I work around what's left, hands sliding under my ratty old t-shirt to smooth up my stomach, run over the soft curves of my breasts. But it feels off, wrong, and I pull them back out. Lie there for a while, teeth worrying my lip as I debate. In the end it's curiosity more than anything else that sends one hand slipping down, hesitating at the waistband of my underwear before finally pushing under it._

_It feels strange at first, familiar flesh alien and different, not necessarily in a bad way…but not in a good one either. My movements become harder, rougher, disappointment and relief strange companions as I come to the realization that this is just one more way that I don't fit in. There are no tingles, no butterflies, no stomach-dropping rush. Nothing._

_It's as I go to yank my hand out of my panties in frustration that something happens, a rough drag across sensitive nerves, and I jump in reaction. I don't know if it was good or bad…but it was something. Hesitantly I reach for it again, brush fingertip down—and wince at the rasp of rough skin. Ow._

_I'm about to give up, to admit defeat and crawl back out from my cave, when an errant thought stops me. I hardly dare…but something stubborn in me refuses to give up when I've already come so far. I may not ever be this brave again._

_Fingers pulled out of their newfound dark secret, pressed against the blockade of tightly pursed lips for a moment before slipping inside. Breath held fast as once again they travel southward, knowing exactly where to go this time. Know to be soft, and gentle, and…oh. Oh. It feels…I'm not …I think it's good. Good, but at the same time not. It's almost too much, nearly painful, and I let my fingers slip down, rest for a moment while I try and decide if I want to keep going._

_But all those places that felt like nothing before suddenly feel like something. Something good._

_So I stroke, and slide, and press. Eventually let my touch wander back up to that first spot, and this time I don't need my mouth. It's no less than before, so intense, and I can hear my breath coming fast and heavy, feel myself squirming, but I still don't quite trust it. Don't like the way my body is disregarding my mind's orders that it be still. Don't like the strange numbness in my toes. Or maybe I do. I don't know. Confused. It's all so confusing, and it…it…I want it to stop, and I want more, and when I finally realize that the strange whimpering sound I keep hearing is coming from me I tear my hand out from under my clothing, throw the blanket off my body, and clap my palms over my sweating, panting face. _

_By the time Renee comes sneaking in, long past midnight, I'm showered and scrubbed, a load in the washer and fresh sheets on the bed. I pretend to sleep when she peeks her head in the door, but it's several hours later before unconsciousness finally claims me._

As I let my fingers retrace that long-ago journey, I couldn't help but think about how different it was this time. I was no longer that confused, naïve little girl, young and untried and lacking any real capacity to understand the things that my body hadn't been ready to tell me.

It was different now. I was different. I knew what it was to burn for somebody's touch. I knew desire. I knew want and desperation and need so deep it was like an ache in the center of your soul. Innocent no longer, my body trained and schooled in the art of giving and taking pleasure, I knew exactly what was happening when Edward's grip on me shifted, tilting my hips just a little bit farther. The trembling that started as a soft quaking in my center and traveled outward in a wave of warmth and _almost_.

I opened my eyes, all shyness forgotten in the sudden need to see him. To watch him watching me. Glued to the movements of my hand, mouth open around fast breaths, then a quick glance up at my face when a short half-gasp, half-cry worked its way loose under his sharp movements.

I let my fingers slip lower, spread out tight around the slippery hard in-and-out, and was rewarded with a strangled moan, eyes scrunched closed for a breath and a half before once again opening onto me—onto us. I brought them back up, back to the place that made me writhe and whine, Edward's voice urging me on in that rough growl that made my toes curl and my insides melt.

"That's it. Good girl. Touch…just like that. Yesssss. Don't stop. Keep going. Such a good little love. Faster. That's right. Right there. Don't stop."

The way he watched me—the way he _wanted_ me—made me feel powerful. Beautiful. I did this. I broke that steely control that typically ruled his every movement. I inspired all those desperate, desirous words that echoed and reverberated through my body, bringing me closer and closer to…to…

_faster_

_fast_

_make it fast_

_suggest you make it fast_

_unless you want to do it in front of an audience_

My impending climax stuttered and stalled as his words folded back in on themselves, dropping me back into reality with a jarring thud.

Audience.

No. He wouldn't. Would he? The panic made a sudden reappearance, holding me there on the precipice as my body fought on both sides of a sudden and fearsome war. Someone was coming; they could be here any second. I had to hurry, if I didn't we'd be caught. But how could I, knowing?

I stayed there on the edge, body desperately trying to throw itself over while my mind stubbornly held back, until with one last change of angle my will crumbled, and I was sent tumbling down the cliff face.

I hit bottom with a crash, twisting out from under his still shuddering body and lunging for the pieces of my clothing that were piled several feet away. Edward's I ignored; the bastard could get his own damn clothes. In fact, I was sorely tempted to rip them into itty bitty pieces.

Less than two seconds later I was pulling my jeans up over my hips, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of somebody approaching. It didn't make sense—yesterday we had less than ten seconds' warning, but at least a minute had passed this time and there still wasn't anybody…coming…

Slowly I turned around, somehow unsurprised to see Edward still lying on the ground where I had left him, a slight grin adorning his face as he watched me dress.

"Tell me something." I propped my hands up on my hips, trying to keep an answering grin off my own face. I didn't want to smile, damn it. I wanted to be mad. "Was there ever actually anybody coming?"

"Of course. Alice says she'll meet us at her house in about," he thought for a second, "three and a half minutes."

Alice? "But yesterday Emmett was the one—"

"Yesterday, Emmett was about four seconds away from getting his head ripped off. In the interests of familial relations, I suggested that somebody else be assigned to come looking for us in the future."

Part of me wanted to laugh. The rest kind of wanted to hit him.

Instead of doing either, I turned and without a word began making my way back to the small cluster of cabins where the others were waiting. I may have stomped just a little bit.

I actually made it farther than I thought I would before Edward caught up to me, but when he grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him, his fully clothed form explained the delay. A slight smirk still played around the edges of his mouth, and that was what finally broke my silence. Wrenching my arm out of his grasp, I balled my hands into fists at my sides and did my best to ignore the urge to plant one of them into his stomach. "Well, I'm happy to be a source of amusement for you," I snapped.

"Don't be like that. "

"Don't be…don't be…" I sputtered. "Don't be like what, Edward? Don't be bothered that you let me think we were seconds away from being walked in on? Don't be upset that apparently it was just some kind of game you thought would be funny? That was…I was…you don't…that was just _mean_. Why? Why would you do something like that?"

"I'm sorry." His expression was completely serious now; all traces of amusement wiped clean. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

"How else did you expect it to make me feel? Did you think I would be okay with somebody seeing…with having an _audience_?" I practically spit the last word out, distaste evident in my voice.

"No, I..." he stopped, raking a hand through his hair as he shook his head. "I thought you would know that it was just…I would never let anybody see you like that." My initial reaction was to scoff, but I was stopped by his obvious sincerity. I was still upset, of course, but I couldn't deny that knowing it was all a game was better than the alternative.

"You wouldn't?"

"Of course not. I don't share what's mine." It wasn't exactly a declaration of undying devotion, but it was enough. Well, it was _almost_ enough.

"So," I lifted my shirt over my head, dropping it at my feet. "You're saying that it wouldn't be okay with you if somebody came along right now and saw me without my top?"

"Isabella." His tone was a warning, and I cocked my head to the side as I pretended to reconsider my actions.

"Okay, okay." I bent over as if to pick my shirt back up, but instead pulled my jeans and underwear back off in one smooth movement. I really had gotten much better at this dressing and undressing thing. "Oops." I stepped away from the small pile of clothing.

"All right, you've made your point. Now, would you please put your clothes back on?"

Two steps brought me up against him, my breasts pressing lightly against his chest. "No, I don't think so." I reached for the waistband of his pants, arching one eyebrow when his hands grasped hold of mine before I could get them unfastened. "How long until Alice expects us?"

"Two minutes and twelve seconds."

""Hmmmm, we don't have much time, then."

I felt it the moment he realized my intention, the air around us suddenly becoming charged and heavy with anticipation. "So, unless you want to do this in front of an audience", I broke free of his hold, once more reaching for his fly, "I suggest you make it fast."

"You," his hands gave up trying to control mine, instead reaching behind me to unfasten the bra that was my last remaining article of clothing, "are evil."

"You love it." We worked together to strip the rest of his clothes off before I dragged him to the ground and climbed on top so that I was straddling his hips. He tried to roll over and put me underneath him, but I pushed him back down easily. I knew the day would eventually come when I would no longer be the stronger one, but I wasn't above taking full advantage while I still could.

"You're putting a lot of faith in my ability to multitask." Edward's voice was strained, his body pulled taught underneath me as I rose and fell, hands on my hips urging me to move faster, harder. Instead I slowed down, leaning over to take his mouth in a long, slow, thorough kiss before once again sitting up.

"I guess I'm just going to have to trust you, aren't I?"

* * *

We were late, much to Alice's irritation and Emmett's amusement. Luckily, she lost her patience with his non-stop jokes and innuendos before my temper got the better of me, shooing him out the door and telling him not to come back until he could act like an adult instead of a "walking, talking case of arrested development." I was really starting to like Alice.

Five hours later, I was really starting to hate Alice.

"Darlin', I think it's time to take a little break," Jasper spoke up from the corner where he had settled in to watch us, earning a slightly guilty look from me. I hoped he hadn't gotten that last bit. Usually my emotions were unavailable to him, kept locked up tightly behind whatever wall it was that kept me separate from everybody's gifts. The only time he seemed to be able to sense my feelings was when they became strong enough to overpower my ability to control them, and even then he said they were muted and hard to pinpoint, as if they were coming from a long distance away and through some kind of a filter.

Jasper's ability to sense me at all, while Edward and Alice were completely shut out, was a puzzle in and of itself. The working theory was that emotions could physically affect the air around us if they got strong enough, and that it was those chemical changes in the environment that he was picking up on, instead of my actual emotions. To tell the truth, it didn't make a whole lot of sense to me; but, I didn't have any better ideas, so I supposed it was as good of an explanation as any.

Alice, though, had taken the theory and run with it. Her thought was that—since Jasper was able to read the changes I made in the environment around me, even if he couldn't read _me_ specifically—maybe she could do the same thing. That was, even though she wasn't able to see _my_ future, maybe she could find a way to see _around_ me.

I didn't hold out much hope, but considering it was my presence that was screwing up her visions in the first place, I thought that helping her try and find a way past my block was the least I could do. At least, that was what I kept telling myself as the hours ticked slowly past.

"But I think I might be getting close," Alice argued, lips turned down into a pretty little pout.

"All the same." He pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and made his way over to her, bending down to brush a kiss across the top of her head. "Come on. Let's go for a walk." He strode out the door, pulling her still-protesting form out behind him and leaving me alone with Edward.

Alone. With Edward.

I peeked over at him from beneath my lashes, unsurprised to find him watching me. He was _always_ watching me. I sat for endless hours with Alice, making decision after decision, and he was there, watching. I worked with Jasper, trying to learn how to get a grip on my constantly oscillating moods and emotions, and he was there, watching. I studied with Emmett, learning how to channel and control my strength—arm-wrestling was a surprisingly effective teaching tool—and he was there, watching. Always watching.

I watched him, too. Watched the way everybody moved around him—friendly for the most part, but with a wariness that wasn't obvious to any but the closest observer. Watched the way that he held himself apart; polite and even occasionally affectionate, yet always there was that distance with which I was all too familiar. The difference was, with me the distance was only an occasional thing; something that came and went and drove me crazy with its uncertain and changeable presence. But I was beginning to realize that it was more than he gave to anybody else.

With everyone else, it was a constant. I could see that he cared for the people he called family. It was in the way he rolled his eyes when Alice became overly enthusiastic about some idea or another. It was obvious by the effort he put into ignoring Rosalie's snide comments and sharp glares, rather than wrap his hands around her milky white throat like I was sorely tempted to do on more than once occasion. I could tell by his snicker when Emmett threw a minor temper tantrum the first time I beat him arm-wrestling, nearly turning the rock we had used as a table into so much dust and rubble.

So yes, he cared. But…

They didn't get to see what I saw. The carefree laugh when I jumped up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and peppering his face with kisses. The undiluted anger when I tried to leave him. The relief when I finally made him see that, even knowing the worst, I still wanted him, and that I would never send him away. That soft look he got sometimes when he looked down at me, fingers tracing my jaw or pushing a strand of hair away from my eyes. Those moments of pure emotion, unguarded and honest, were for me and me alone.

Like right now. All morning he had been quiet, responding only when Alice requested his help in her little decision-making experiments. Like Jasper, he had stood back for the most part and quietly watched the process, his presence at once a distraction and a balm. When, about an hour into the session, Alice had suggested that I might be better able to focus if he left us alone for a while, his only response had been to glance her way for a second before once again turning his attention back to me. The message was loud and clear; he wasn't going anywhere, but he would stay out of the way.

Now that we were alone, though, he allowed a small smile to tilt up one side of his mouth as he continued to silently watch me.

"What?"

He said nothing, merely shook his head slightly as the smile grew.

"I didn't do anything!"

A silent laugh vibrated through his shoulders, and I huffed out loud as I crossed my arms over my chest. I hadn't…okay, fine, maybe I had.

"How much did Jasper catch?"

At that he actually laughed out loud. Well, more like a quiet chuckle, but still. It was enough that I was having a hard time keeping myself from laughing with him. It really wasn't fair how he was able to do that.

"I'm not sure. Not enough to really worry him, but enough that he thought getting Alice out of the room as soon as possible was a pretty good idea."

Damn. "He didn't have to be so quick about it. I wouldn't have actually done anything," I grumbled. Still laughing, Edward walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me so that my head rested against his chest.

"Don't be upset with Jasper. Alice is the most important thing in the world to him. Keeping her safe is his primary objective, and sometimes it tends to make him a little overprotective."

"I get it. But I wouldn't have hurt her. I like Alice."

"She likes you."

"I like Emmett, too."

"Most people do. Emmett's easy to like."

"I don't like Rosalie."

He sighed. "Rose can be…difficult. But, she has her reasons."

"I just…I really wanted to like her, you know? I thought, after the things you told me, that we were…I don't know…that we could be friends, I guess." What I didn't say was that she was the first person I had ever really felt like I had something in common with. It was my own stupid fault for thinking that way about somebody whom I had never even met. And on further thought, what did I imagine we actually had in common, anyway? Maybe if Edward had come along an hour or so later, I might have some idea of what Rosalie had been through; but as it was, all I had was a good scare followed by a night in the arms of the sexiest creature ever to walk the earth. And I had somehow imagined that gave us some kind of a shared bond? If anything, it would probably make her hate me more than she did already.

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, I'm glad you did." I pulled back a little, looking up at him. "Sometimes, it's just about the only thing that keeps me from ripping her head off," I joked. Kind of joked.

Another soft chuckle was his only response, followed by several minutes of quiet stillness as we just stood there. In the distance I could hear the others as they went about the daily routines of their lives; walking and talking, laughing and living. Mundane and normal and so very surreal. It was hard to imagine that someday my own life might follow those same all-too-human patterns. Get up in the morning. Go hunt up some breakfast. Clean house. Maybe go to work. Shop for groceries I wouldn't eat. All to maintain some kind of illusion of humanity that would allow me to interact with them; pretend to be one of them. I wasn't quite sure what the point of it all was, but everybody seemed to take it for granted that it was what I wanted. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I would be perfectly happy spending eternity holed up out in the middle of nowhere, as long as I had Edward with me.

For instance, right now I was having a hard time being so close to him, ostensibly being alone with him, yet knowing that there was nothing I could do about it, unless I truly _did _want to dabble in exhibitionism. I was acutely aware of the fact that, if I could hear them, they could also hear me, and that our seeming privacy at the moment was a shallow illusion at best. I didn't even dare steal a kiss, knowing all too well what that kind of activity invariably led to.

It wasn't something I had to worry about for long, though. Just when I was beginning to seriously consider dragging Edward off somewhere to have my way with him, he pulled back and looked down at me with a somewhat tense expression.

"What is it?"

"Carlisle and Esme are coming."

Oh. I knew this moment was coming, most likely sometime today, but that didn't mean I was ready for it. Edward's parents. Oh, God. What if they hated me? What if they wanted me to leave? I took it back, I liked it here. I liked being a part of a family. I liked the way almost everybody accepted me with little to no question, bringing me into the fold and taking the time and energy to help teach me the things I needed to know. I didn't want to go.

Edward shifted uncomfortably, hissing a little and bringing my attention to how tightly I was gripping his arms. I hadn't even realized I had grabbed ahold of him. I yanked my arms behind my back, taking a quick step backward at the same time. "Sorry," I whispered. He followed me as I took another step, reaching out and keeping me from retreating any farther.

"Stop," he commanded. "Whatever you're thinking right now, just stop. I told you before; you have nothing to worry about." I shot him an incredulous look. Yeah, because everything turned out so well last time. He must have interpreted it exactly as I meant for him to, because he had the grace to look just a bit sheepish. "I know, but that had more to do with the element of surprise than anything else. They already know we're here, so that won't be a problem this time."

"How?"

"They smelled our trail on their way in," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which I supposed it should have been.

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "How long?"

"Now."

Oh, God.

As it turned out, this was one time when Edward had it completely right. We had barely made it outside when a tall woman with warm, caramel-hued hair was running straight into his arms. I had to bite back the involuntary growl that rose up in my chest at the sight—some dark, instinctive part of me wanting to rip her away from him and tear her limb from limb for daring to touch what was _mine_. That urge was wiped away in the next moment, when she stepped back and held him at arm's length, a tremulous smile making her even more beautiful than she already was. "Oh, Edward." Then she pulled him in for another mighty hug. "My boy."

"Hello, Esme." His voice was soft, arms wrapping around her back as he smiled down at her. Something pulled tight in my chest, and I tore my eyes away from their embrace. That was when I noticed for the first time the tall blonde vampire that stood several yards back. He had been watching the reunion as well, but turned his gaze to me as soon as I saw him, as if he could sense my regard. He smiled at me, and something about it made it impossible not to smile back.

If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that he truly was Edward's biological father. Not because they shared the same features or even looked remotely similar, even though they were without any doubt the two most beautiful beings I had ever seen. It was more because they both had that same magnetism, some indefinable quality that would bring any woman or girl within a fifty-foot radius to her knees. This man went out and interacted with humans on a regular basis? How was that even possible? How could the female population hope to function when he was anywhere in the vicinity? The past weeks spent with Edward had helped to accustom me to dealing with this kind of staggering beauty, and _I_ was about to fall at his father's feet. How did anybody else even stand a chance?

A soft giggle sounded off to my left, pulling my attention away from the Sun God and back to where Edward and Esme stood watching me. She was still smiling, although the tearful sheen had been replaced with quiet amusement. She was quite obviously used to seeing other women falling all over themselves when it came to her husband.

Edward, on the other hand, looked anything but amused as he glared at me through narrowed eyes. Luckily, Carlisle chose that moment to distract him, walking forward and pulling him into a quick embrace. "Edward. It's good to see you, son."

"Carlisle." He took a step back, turning and reaching out a hand to pull me closer. "This is Isabella." My stomach fluttered as we exchanged 'nice to meet you' and he ignored my outstretched hand, greeting me with a hug before passing me off to Esme, where I was thoroughly hugged once more.

"Isabella, it's so wonderful to meet you." I had never been a touchy-feely person, but somehow all this physical affection didn't seem strange or make me feel uncomfortable in the least. They were so genuinely welcoming, it was nearly impossible not to reflect their enthusiasm.

"Please, call me Bella," I answered as I returned her embrace, being careful not to squeeze too tightly. I could practically hear Edward grinding his teeth behind me, and gave an inward eye-roll. I didn't know what he had against my name, but just because he insisted on calling me Isabella didn't mean everybody else needed to.

In the end, the whole "meet the parents" went better than I could have dared to imagine. Carlisle and Esme were everything one could ever hope for in a family; warm, caring, compassionate, and all-around wonderful. They welcomed me with open arms, and even though I suspected that a large portion of that had to do with the simple fact that I bad brought Edward with me, it just didn't matter. Whether it was by extension or not, for the first time in as long as I could remember I felt like I was a member of an actual family.

I couldn't help but wonder, there in the midst of all that love and acceptance, what could possibly have caused him to walk away in the first place. Why would anybody willingly leave all this?

* * *

I'm not quite sure what to say here. This chapter was originally supposed to have a lot more in it, but things kind of got away from me and it ended up only covering about half of what it was supposed to. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

The good news—several large chunks of the next couple of chapters are pre-written. The bad news—it's turning out that integrating those pre-written portions into the narrative is not nearly as easy as I thought it would be.

Thank you so much for reading. I know the journey is taking forever and a day, but I do promise that we will get to the end eventually. Until next time!


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